"5^4 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



005 029 261 7 



A 



F 594 
.K54 
Copy 1 



iffiWKINGMANS 

TURK FOURTHS 



a 



AtENTURY 




I 




V 



\y7-^ 



7 ^^<^<^ 



/€^^ ^ 



THE TRAVELS AND 
ADVENTURES OF 

HENRY KINGMAN 

IN SEARCH OF COLORADO 
AND CALIFORNLA. GOLD 



1859 - 1805 



With a few later incidents, including- 

some politics and the celebi'ation of 

his seventy-fifth birthday. 



Copyrig-ht 1917 



Delavan, Morris County, Kansas 
1917 



^■' 



DEDICATED 



To my children, grand-children, 
relatives and friends. 

HENRY KINGMAN 



Herington Sun Press, Herington, Kansas 
1917 



©CI.A48 13:33 



^\^'' DEC 28 1917 



-" THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

'^lllllllllllllllinillllllllinilllllM Ill MIIIIIIIIIIIMIinMIIIMIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIM Mill II Illllllll mil Illll iiiimiiiiimimiimmiiiiiiiiiiii 



CHAPTER I 



BOYHOOD DAYS IN ILLINOIS 



I was born at Deer Creek, Tazewell County, Illinois, May 7th, 
1842. On April 22nd, 1847, while attempting to cross the Macanaw 
river at what was known as "Rocky Ford," during- very high water, 
my father was drowned, leaving my mother with five boys, the eld- 
est of whom was not ten years of age. It was then that the hard- 
ships of the little family began. To provide food and clothing for 
five boys, in the wilds of Illinois, was a task which can scarcely be 
realized in these days of home comforts. 

Many times it was necessary for mother to go to the field and 
assist in the work of I'aising a crop, and then assist in gathering it. 
In winter also much outdoor work was necessary to secure food and 
clothing and keep the little family together. 

On March 8th, 1849, mother married Mr. Eri Bogardus, a man of 
education, a graduate of Harvard, who afterward studied medicine, 
but at the time of mother's marriage to him he was teaching school 
in our district. There were no free schools in those days, and tuition 
was $G per pupil for the term of three months, school beginning 
December first. Occasionally there would be a four months term, 
when school began November first; only the smaller children and 
girls attending until the corn was husked and in the cribs. 

Mother had no money with which to pay our tuition so she took 
Mr. Bogardus to board with us, in that way a friendship was formed 
which later led to marriage, which lasted until death separated them. 

(1) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

,11 , iniiiiiiiii I I rif mill iiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii i i i nil iiiimiiiiimiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiii 

In those primitive days mother made all our clothing from wool, 
off the sheep raised on our farm. At the time of father's death we 
had 1200 head of them, which sold at our sale for twenty-five cents 
per head. In April and May the sheep were sheared, the process at 
that time being very different from the present, when clippers run 
by steam or electricity are used. 

When we sheared our sheep, the first process was to prepare two 
pens on the river bank, into one of which the unwashed sheep would 
be turned, and when washed they would be put into the other. The 
water in the Macanaw river, which was three miles from our home, 
was, at the point where the pens were built, about waist deep. Into 
this the sheep were driven, one at a time for each man in the water. 

Arriving at home after this process, a sheep was caught by each 
shearer, set down on his haunches, and, beginning at the head the 
shearing was very closely done over the entire body. The men who 
did the shearing were very expert in their work, going about the 
county from place to place all through the shearing season. Mother 
often helped with this work. 

The wool from each sheep averaged about six pounds, but on 
large bucks it would sometimes yield twelve pounds; all wool at that 
time sold from fifteen to twenty cents per pound. 

The wool kept for yarn and to be made into cloth was sent to a 
"woolen mill," where it was carded into rolls about the size of one's 
finger and thirty inches in length. These rolls were spun by hand on 
a wheel fifteen feet in circumference. Some of the yarn spun being 
made fine enough, that when used with linen warp, made a cloth that 
was used for dresses, petticoats and other garments, and was called 
"Lin-sey-wool-sey." 

The cloth used for boy's and men's clothes was made from all 
wool, at home on crude looms, constructed by some one handy with 
tools. When the cloth had been woven, mother cut out and made by 
hand every garment we wore, coats, vests and trousers, sitting, night 
after night, bent over her work by the light of dim tallow candles 
or a grease lamp. 

This picture stands out most vividly in my memory, mother 
never idle, if she was not sewing, then she was knitting, piecing 
quilts, or finding something for her busy hands to do. 

(2) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKIMIinill MM MMIMM MMMMMMrMMI MMMIMIMMM IMMMMMIMMMMMMMM IMMMMIMMMMIMMMMMMI 

There being no railroads in HIinois at that time, marlceting what 
was produced on the farm was a problem. Corn was shelled either 
with a hand sheller or more often "tramped" out with horses. Many 
a day I have ridden a horse for this purpose. After it was shelled 
it was then run through a fanning mill to separate it from the cobs 
which would of course be broken in pieces. About one hundred 
bushels of ears at a time was thrown on the ground floor of the barn, 
'round which boards had been placed and a man with a scoop shovel 
stood and shoveled back any that went over the boards. 

No one had board floors in their barns and cement had not been 
heard of. In much the same way wheat, oats, barley, all grains, 
were threshed, except occasionally some one used a flail. When the 
corn or other grains were ready for market it was usually taken with 
ox teams to the HIinois river, either to Pekin or to Peoria, and sold, 
to be shipped later by boat to St. Louis and New Orleans. The price 
for corn being eight and ten cents per bushel; wheat and other grains 
proportionately low. 

I remember one time when father was living he took a load of 
wheat to Ft. Dearborn, now Chicago, driving six yoke of oxen a 
distance of 132 miles; the time required being two weeks. Father 
brought home many things on that trip, flour enough to last a year, 
sugar, coffee, innumerable small things used about the house, that 
could not be made by hand at home, and among the other things 
was a pair of "galluses" for myself, being the first I had ever had, 
except what mother had knit. 

Our boots and shoes were made of cow hide by a local shoemaker. 
In the winter we would melt together equal parts of tallow and bees- 
wax and fill the leather full ; besides waterproofing and preserving 
the leather, we never had to blacken them. 

We had always used a fireplace, with a dutch oven in which to 
bake biscuit and corn bread; by the side of the old fireplace was built 
an oven in which mother could bake a dozen loaves of bread if she 
wished and twenty-five pies at the same time. 

It would be next to impossible for one reared in Kansas and 
used to the modern tools to realize the primitive manner in which 
corn was planted, covered and cultivated in the early days in Illinois. 
The ground was plowed in the usual way, with wooden beam, steel 

(3) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

nriiiiiiiniiiiiiiii i iriiiiiiiiiiiiMiMiiiriiiMi iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii r iiiiiiiriiiiiiiiir iiiii iiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiii i 

point plows. Then harrowed with an old fashioned "A" shaped 
harrow. It was then marked length-wise of the field with a marker, 
after that, cross marked with a single shovel plow, and this in turn 
was followed by the "droppers," men or boys, often women and girls, 
who dropped three or four grains at the intersection of the mark- 
ings. Next came a sort of a machine called a "jumper." 

This "jumper" was made with two handles attached to a beam, 
and fastened to the lower part of the beam, was a "nigger" hoe. 
The man using the machine jumped every hill. That is, the hoe 
was dropped between the hills gathering up the dirt, then jumped over 
the hill, dropping the soil thus gathered on the planted corn. About 
eight to ten acres could be planted in a day in this manner. 

After the corn was up, it was harrowed with the "A" harrow, 
from which the two front, the center middle, and back tooth had 
been removed. After this it was cultivated with single and dou- 
ble shovel plows, and sometimes with a "bar" plow which threw 
the dirt away from the corn, the last cultivating being done with a 
double shovel plow 

Two and three bushels of wheat or oats, per acre, was sowed. 
When the grain was ripe it was cut with cradles or sickles. A good 
cradler could cut three acres per day, for which he would receive 
one dollar with board. Usually a boy followed the cradles with a^ 
wooden rake, raking the grain in bundles which were bound by a man 
taking a good sized handful of straw, dividing it in two parts and 
forming a "straw band," by twisting the ends. Shocking was not 
done until the entire field was in bundles. In cutting with a sickle 
one person did it all. A bunch of grain would be grasped in the left 
hand, cut, laid to one side and so on until enough for a bundle was 
ready when the person doing the cutting would tie it, throw it to one 
side and so on and on; when enough was ready for a shock it was 
placed in the shock by the same person. Until harvesters came in, 
ten acres was the average size of wheat and oat fields, and one- 
half to three-fourths of an acre was an average day's work, using a 
sickle. A day at that time was not eight hours, but from "sun to 
sun." 

In those early days, deer, wolves and coyotes were plentiful. I 
have frequently seen a dozn full grown deer in one herd. I remem- 
ber one evening about dusk, coming home from the pasture where I 

(4) 



13 



HH 




^ ^r 


1^. 


H 


> jT 


3 


K 


P c/ 




H 


* 






-f Ki 




O 


r O 


O 
|3 


O 


o- 




ffi 


*y 




o 


A 



w 



>t3 





THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiHiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiii iiiijitiiijiiiiiijiii ;iiiniiiiiiiiii!iii i u iiiii i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

had been sent for the cows, about a dozen deer loomed up not far 
from me and began to play. Among them were three large bucks. 
I had heard of bucks attacking people and when I felt my hair rais- 
ing my hat off from my head, I took to my heels, leaving the cows for 
someone else to bring home. 

Old Uncle Jimmy Robinson would stop in sometimes on his way 
home and ask mother if she wanted some venison; and she would say 
she did. Next morning Uncle Jimmie would come bringing in a quar- 
ter or some portion of a deer killed while on his way home. Uncle 
Jimmie was not related to our family but was one of those men 
v.'hom everyone called "Uncle." 

He lived with his wife in a little cabin down by the creek not far 
from our home. Uncle Jimmie used to drink a great deal and Aunt 
Sarah, his wife, became afraid he would come home some night and 
kill her, so she had a carpenter build a coffin for her out of black 
walnut lumber, and mother helped her make her shroud, which was 
placed in the coffin and both were taken to the attic. It was many 
years before Aunt Sarah was dressed in the garments she prepared, 
and by then wild flowers had blossomed and died many a Spring- 
time and Autumn over the spot where poor old Uncle Jimmie slept 
his "last sleep." 

The house in which I was born is still standing, and occupied. 
The frame of the house was made from hewn timbers, and the sills 
and floor joists were made from trees eight to ten inches through, 
hewn on one side, with the bark left on the opposite side. Upper 
joists M'ere made from smaller trees hewn on both sides. The weather 
boarding and inside finishing, including doors and window sash, was 
all of black walnut lumber which had been "whip sawed." 

That was accomplished by first digging a pit twelve feet in 
length, three feet wide and six deep, upon which, at either end, a 
fi-ame Avas set to hold the logs. One man in the pit, the other on 
the log, sawed the log into pieces of any si/e required. Shingles 
were made with a "frow," a cleaving tool with a handle at right 
angles to the blade, also from black walnut logs. 

The house was twenty feet in width and forty in length and when 
first built was divided into two rooms each containing a large fire- 
place which were placed back to back, one chimney answering for both. 

(5) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

MiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiriiiiiniiiJiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriJiiiiiiiiiiiijriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiJic 

As I said in the beginning of my story, there were five of we 
boys, one of whom, Abel, died in infancy. The eldest was called 
Charley, the second Cyrus, then myself, Henry, then Martin, the 
youngest. It was the duty of each of we boys, in turn, to build the 
fires in the mornings, each building fires for one week at a time. 
When my step-father had been a member of our family for about 
two years, he bought a cook stove, the first in the neighborhood, cal- 
led the "Home Comfort." 



(6) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iri:iiiiiiniiMiiiiiiijiiiiirriiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriirririiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiriirriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiKiiiiiiiiii 



CHAPTER II 



PLANNING TO RUN AWAY FROM HOME 



It was in this stove the fires were built. I had always resented 
the presence of Mr. Bogardus in our family, and there were frequent 
clashes between us. Looking back over the years that are passed, 
and viewing with a man's impartiality, I know my step-father was a 
most just, well intentioned man; the trouble was with myself. 

I think I must have been born with the "call of the wild" deep 
in my soul. When I was nine years old, I made up my mind to leave 
home. I did not consider how my wild idea, when carried out, would 
grieve mother; neither at that time did I care. In my heart I 
blamed her for marrying the second time, and bringing to our home 
a strange man to, as I called it, "boss" we boys. Not that Mr. Bo- 
gardus was ever unkind, he was not, but was interested in us for 
mother's sake as well as our own. 

Old- Uncle Jimmy Robinson's son-in-law, a worthless good-for- 
nothing man who lived near us, left his wife and two small children 
one fall and remained away all winter. Returning in the spring he 
told exciting tales of the deer, bear and wild turkey he had seen and 
shot during the winter, which he had spent in Arkansas. 

He was preparing to return there accompanied by his wife and 
two small children, and I was determined to go with him if he would 
allow me to do so. Every chance I could get, I stole over to Tom 
Hardin's cabin to hear him tell more about the wonderful things he 
had seen, and the game he had killed. As the time drew near for 
his departure, I could scarcely either eat or sleep, so great was my 

(7) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iniiiMirfiiMiMiMiMiiiiiiiriiriiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiMiiiriiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiMiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJii 

fear that something would happen to prevent me from going. No 
thought of being homesick, or sorrow at leaving mother and the boys 
ever entered my mind. I was going to run away anyhow, and this 
was my chance. 

When I asked Tom Hardin if I could go with him he said, "yes," 
and now the only thing for me to do, was to be on hand in time 
to start. I told my brother, Martin, but made him promise not to 
tell. At last everything was in readiness and on the "morrow at 
sun up" we would start. It was my week to build the fires, and on 
that morning, before it was light, I got up, made a bundle of the few 
clothes I had, threw them out of the window, crept softly down stairs, 
built the fire, put the teakettle and coffee pot on as usual, opened and 
closed the kitchen door softly, and ran as swiftly as my legs would 
carry me, down to Tom Hardin, where, in a very short time we were 
ready, and started, much to my delight. I knew I would not feel 
safe for at least two or three days, but at last I was really in the 
covered wagon. Tom clucked to his horses, and we were off. 

That day we traveled about fifteen miles and camped. We 
started out early the next morning, but about eleven o'clock two of 
my brothers, Cyrus and Martin, came riding up to the wagon. I saw 
them and recognized the horses and the way the boys rode bare-back. 
When they were still some distance off I crawled back in the wagon 
and covered up. Tom stopped when they asked where I ^vas and 
said, "I don't know anything about him." The boys didn't believe 
him and began searching for me, finding me under covers enough 
to have smothered me in a short time. I refused to go back with 
them, but after arguing about it for some time, Tom said as mother 
had sent for me, he "guessed I'd have to go." I returned, a crest- 
fallen and disappointed boy, but I hadn't changed my mind about 
leaving home; I would bide my time. 

It was three years before that time came. No special new 
reason caused me to leave home this time. I had never had clothes 
enough even to feel comfortable, and they were of the poorest kind. 
Hickory shirts, jeans and blue drilling clothes were the best I had, 
and as for foot M^ear, I had cow-hide boots or went bare foot. 

Another morning when the time came I went through practic- 
ally the same routine, built the fire, put teakettle and coffee pot on 
the stove, went out, carefully closing the door, picked up my bundle 

(8) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiMrriririiiriiiiiiiiiiiiriiiniiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiMiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiJiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiifirriiiiiiiiiiiiriiiM iiiniiiiiiiiiniMiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiii 

and once again started out to "do for myself." I had a cousin liv- 
ing on a farm fourteen miles distant, and to him I was going for 
work. 

About noon I was pretty hungry, having had no breakfast, so 
I stopped at a farm house for a drink of water, and in conversation 
with the farmer told him that I had left home. He wanted to hire me 
but I was bent on going first to my cousin, and I told him so. He 
kindly invited me in to dinner, which invitation was gladly and thank- 
fully received. I am sure I did full justice to that dinner. I ar- 
rived at the home of my cousin, Ed Pratt, near Tremont, about dusk. 

He received me most kindly; I hired out to worlv for him that 
night for twenty five cents a day, and began work early next morn- 
ing. I had been working about two weeks when on one Saturday 
night my mother and my step-father drove up. They must have heard 
where I was. They wanted me to go home with them, which I did. I 
had bought myself two shirts and a pair of boots with the money 
earned. 

I remained home over night, and before anyone was awake next 
morning, I once again left home. At that time any place seemed 
better to me than my home. I went back to Cousin Pratt, where I 
worked for twenty-five cents a day until corn husking time, when I 
went to work for a man called "Scotch" Smith, receiving six dol- 
lars per month, going from there to make my home with "Preacher" 
Andrews. 

I was to have my board and room for doing the chores. This is 
about what I did every day : milked four cows twice daily, fed twenty 
head of cattle, four horses, pumping all the water used for them and 
in the house, by hand. 

Saturday I would go to the woods, sometimes chop down trees, 
sometimes cut up those already down, into suitable lengths for load- 
ing, take it home and chop it up into stove wood lengths. About 
Christmas time I asked Preacher Andrews if he would loan me a 
horse so that I could go home for Christmas, and he readily consented 

I had never been homesick in my life until that week, when 
every night I would cry myself to sleep. Mother Andrews asked me 
if my eyes were getting sore, they were so red from crying. I went 
home Christmas eve, remained until the evening of the next day, 

(9) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

'iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMirniiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiririiiiiiMiriiriiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiriniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiriJiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

when I was as glad to get back to Preacher Andrews' as I had been 
anxious to get home. Mother was well satisfied that I had my home 
with a Presbyterian minister and I liked it there in spite of, or perhaps 
because of, having so much to do, I did not have time to become 
dis-satisfied. 

In the spring I left there at the close of school, to work for two 
cousins, John and Lysander Kingman, engaged to stay nine months 
at six dollars per month. They were unmarried, and we kept what 
they called "Bachelor's Hall." I didn't go to school that winter. 
I don't know to this day how we spent that winter. I know none of 
us worked any. One of my cousins' had a violin, a fiddle we called it, 
the other a tambourine. 

Every Saturday night several young men from Tremont would 
come out, (we lived on the edge of town,) and bring with them a 
banjo, bones, drum, mouth organ and jews-harp, and they would 
play (I never did) until they were tired, then we would attack the 
four pound box of smoking tobacco that was always kept for the oc- 
casion, and smoke until the room was blue. 

We had fine times, days .and evenings I shall never forget. And 
So the winter passed. 

The following spring I went to work for a man by the name of 
Aubrey, an Englishman, for twelve dollars per month. This proved 
to be the very worst place I had ever lived. It gave me an impres- 
sion of English people in general that to this day has never left me. 
They had no water except what we got from a "slough" well. A hole 
was dug in the marshy ground, and a curbing placed in it which would 
fill up with water from which we drank and used for cooking, and 
just outside, close up, the hogs wallowed. 

Mr. Aubry, himself, never tasted water. He had in his cellar 
eight and ten barrels of hard cider at one time, and that is what he 
drank. He tried to have me drink it too, but I would not. 

One time when I was out in the stable currying the horses he 
came out to where I was and began "jawing" me. I was mad, every- 
thing had gone wrong and I had reached the limit of endurance. I 
grabbed the pitchfork and started after him. He was perfectly wil- 
ling to leave and did so in a hurry. I told him I wouldn't work for 
him another day, and I didn't. 

(10) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiMiiiiiiii iiiiiiiMiiiiMiiiiiuiii iiiiiiiiiiiniMii iiiiiMiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiil 

I went home from there, which was not far, and worked all fall 
for my board, and the following- winter I went to school ag'ain. I 
was fifteen in May of that year. The following- spring I went to 
work for my cousin Lysander, who had married since I worked for 
him before, and was living with his father-in-law. He was to pay me 
twelve dollars per month. I worked from March until the first of 
August, then something occurred that caused me to leave him, on 
short notice. 

His father-in-law was a banker in Tremont, driving to and from 
town each day with a horse and buggy. They had the poorest out- 
fit to work with I had ever had any experience with. The horses 
were both balky, the harness was chain tugs, with rope lines. One 
day when I was plowing the horses got to kicking and wouldn't pull, 
but when I finally succeeded in starting them they ran full tilt. I 
dropped the lines and yelled at them to go to, mixed with a few other 
words, and they went, dragging the plow after them. They ran to the 
stable, neither of them hurt, no damage done I thought, except to my 
temper, but it seems that I was mistaken. 

The next morning when I was in the stable currying the horses, 
Mr. Pettis came in and pitched on to me rough shod for letting the 
horses go like that. I was still mad at myself and I threw the curry 
comb at him as hard as I could and followed it with the brush, all the 
time telling him in no very mild terms what I thought of him, his horses 
and all concerned. I ran outside to find a club with which to em- 
phasize my words, but Mr. Pettis evidently thought "discretion the 
better part of valor," and vamosed. I told him I would leave and 
next morning I did so. 

I went back to "bachelor's hall", going to work for my cousins, 
who were threshing. I bought a span of mules of my brother Char- 
ley, paying part down on them, giving my note for the remainder. 
Having- a team to work with now, I received one dollar a day, and 
board for myself and team. I remained at the "hall" until school 
began. 



(11) 



vmtmwmwif^ vtrinm 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiirMiMiiiiriiiiiiiiiriiiMiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiriiiiniiriiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinitiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiriiiinMiiMiiiiiiiMiiiniiriiiiiiiiii 



CHAPTER III 

BOARDING SCHOOL AND PLANNING TO GO 
TO PIKES PEAK 



The county seat of Tazewell county had for some years prior 
to this tiine been in Tremont, but Pekin, located on the Illinois river, 
had out grown Tremont, and a spirit of dissatisfaction arose among 
the people at Pekin, because the county seat was not at that place, 
and measures were taken to have it moved, which was finally accom- 
plished by a vote of the people. 

Pekin immediately began the erection of a new court house, 
which, when completed and occupied, left the Tremont court house 
vacant. 

A man by the name of McClellan leased it and in the fall open- 
ed a "select" school for boys, which was held in the upper rooms, the 
lower rooms being used by Mr. McClellan for living purposes. That 
fall, it was the winter before my seventeenth birthday, in company 
with two of my brothers, Charley and Martin, I arranged to attend 
this school. 

We boys rented two upper rooms, which had formerly been oc- 
cupied by the sheriff and county clerk, one of which we used for a 
bed room, the other a sitting room and kitchen combined. Tuition 
was six dollars per month, this I paid by cutting and hauling wood 
for the teacher's use and also for the school room. The wood thus 
hauled I put in the basement, and in the evenings, by candle light, 
I sawed and split all that was used. 

By this means I not only earned my tuition, but I also made 
enough money to pay for what I ate and to feed mv mules. Oc- 

(12) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

fiiniiiiiriiihiiMiiiiKiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiii nil iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

casionally I had a small amount of money to spare for something else 
I needed. There were forty-three boys and one girl in school that 
winter. I do not remember how that one girl happened to go to 
school there. 

I had always had a hasty temper, to put it mildly. Soon after 
school began, we country boys were informed by the town boys that 
We would all have to be initiated. One of the largest as well as the 
oldest boys in school was a boy whose name was Ham Saltenstahl, 
a town boy and a regular bully. He was the son of a doctor, of 
slight build but taller than any of us. In spite of his overbearing- 
manners he seemed to be a prime favorite with the other town boys. 
I had noticed him picking on a little fellow named Ed Studenburg, 
who was about fifteen years old. Ham would walk up to Ed and 
pull his ears, pinch him, and put his foot out and trip him, slap him 
in the mouth, all kinds of aggravating things. 

I kept my temper fairly well for two or three days, then one day 
when Ham had been abusing Ed more than usual, I stepped up to him 
and said, "See here, I want you to stop tormenting that boy, you 
have been at it long enough, now stop it." "Oh-Ho," said Ham, 
"maybe you want to take it up for him, do you?" I didn't wait to tell 
him whether I did or not, I just doubled up my fist and knocked him 
down. Then I jumped on him and gave him such a beating that he 
wasn't able to come to school for three days. When he did return, 
he was a changed boy, no more hazing of any kind occurred during the 
term, and we all became, if not exactly friendly, on speaking terms. 
Years later Saltenstahl became a doctor as his father had been be- 
fore him. 

Gold had been discovered hi Pikes Peak the year before and by 
this time excitement was at a high pitch. About the middle of the 
term the boys began talking about going to Pikes Peak at the close 
of school. Soon several of them began forming plans to "hit the 
trail." Naturally this interested and excited me and I wented to 
become one of the party, but they all declared I was too young, not 
yet seventeen. 

Finally, just the week before they were ready to start, they 
agreed to take me. My joy at this knew no bounds. I had always 
felt strongly the "call of the wild;" now I was to really know some- 
thing of what it meant. 

(13) 



Mlgl^gjPIP^BBMBWBBWlWWIWWWWMWHWJW'l*****'*"'*''"'*'^'""' 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

jiMiinniinniiiMiinnn:Miiiiiiiiiriiiiiiijiri[Miii!iiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiii;iMMiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!Mjiij|iiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiriiiiiiii 

School closed March first. The boys began work immediately 
on the equipment. They bought heavy canvas, "duck" we called it, 
for a tent which they sewed by hand, then oiled to make it rain 
proof. After they consented to let me become one of the party the 
first thing I did was to take an old file to a black-smith, from which 
he made a bowie knife. I found an old stag horn which I used for 
a handle, and when finished it presented a most formidable appear- 
ance, the blade being ten inches in length with an edge keen as a 
razor, and the handle five, making a weapon fifteen inches in length. 
I then took it to a harness maker and had a sheath made for it, and 
I felt ready to take any Indian's scalp with ease should it^ at some 
time appear necessary. 

When I bought my mules from brother Charley, I also got a 
cheap harness and a light wagon. Having them all paid for by this 
time, and being the owner of an outfit, even no better than mine was, 
proved an inducement to the boys to take me with them, as after 
they had purchased supplies as far as their means went, they were 
still short a "general utility" such as mine could be made into. 

All the wagons were fitted with bows and covers and in mine was 
placed our daily "grub,"" bedding, which consisted of two heavy blan- 
kets and a small rubber sheet for each person,, the wall tent, ten by 
twelve feet in size and a sheet iron stove with pipe. On the evening 
of the twentieth of March everything was in readiness for an early 
start. 

On Saturday before v,'e were to start, brother Charlie and 1 
went home to Deer Creek to bid mother and the family "good bye." 

Our family by this time consisted of, besides the first brothers, 
two half sisters and two half brothers, the youngest of whom, Peter, 
was about eighteen months old. I bought some hickory shirting and 
jeans with which to make me some shirts and trousers. Mother tried 
to persuade me not to go; she said, "Henry you are too young to leave 
home for a journey like that, besides your terrible temper will cause 
you to be killed or to kill some one some day." But nothing she said 
affected me in the least. I had made up my mind to go, and having 
the chance now, nothing but death itself could stop me. That even- 
ing after supper mother cut out the shirts and trousers and began sew- 
ing, and kept it up all night by the light of a tallow candle, finishing 
them Sunday forenoon. We remained over Sunday night and early 
Monday morning bid them all good bye. 

(14) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

ini Jill nn III iiiiuMiiiMiMiiniiiiiiMMiiiMMiiMirMiiMiMiMiiiiiiijiiiiiijiini!iiiiii!iriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!iiiiiiiiiii:iMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiJMiiiiiiiiiriii 

In my heart I thouo'ht it was the last time I would ever see any 
of them. I expectea to find plenty of gold where we were going, 
and I did not intend to come back, ever. Mother charged brother 
Charlie to take good care of me. and keep me out of trouble. We, 
or at least I did, left them as unconcernedly and as eagerly as though 
I was only going back toTremont. I never shed a tear, not even when 
mother clung to me crying, "Do be a good boy, Henry." 

Looking back over those days of my childhood, I often wonder 
what it was that made me so heartless, so blind to every kindness. 
I cared for no one. I feared no one, nor nothing. 

Two days after we returned from Deer Creek, March 21, we bade 
our friends good bye, and left Tremont with high hopes of finding 
plenty of gold before we returned, if we ever did. We had formed 
an "over-land company" and elected Mr. McClellan captain. He 
had crossed the plains in fifty-two and it was fitting that we should 
trust him with the leadership of our little company. The other mem- 
bers of our party were: Al Marks, brother-in-law of Mr. McClellan, 
Emer Ramsey, Free Kingman, a cousin of ours, brother Charley and 
myself. 

We were dressed in jeans, wore hats and rubber boots, all but 
myself, I had no money to buy rubber boots with, so I got a pair of 
rubber leggins. The bowie knife I had made I carried in the sheath 
attached to my belt. This with three muzzle loading guns, four re- 
volvers, and an old smooth bore muzzle loading rifle, with which I 
killed all the game I shot on the journey, made up our armament for 
defense. We expected further along on our trip to be attacked by 
Indians most any time. In those days I was a crack shot, anything 
I got a bead on was my meat. 

We shipped our provisions to Nebraska City by way of St. Louis, 
keeping out what we thought would be enough to last through Iowa. 
The provisions we shipped before we left, Emer Ramsey going with 
them. We had three barrels of crackers, a thousand pounds of flour, 
six hundred pounds of bacon, one sack of rice, one large sack of dried 
apples, one barrel of dark brown sugar, one hundred pounds of green 
coffee, ten pounds of tea, several pounds of cream of tartar and soda, 
there being no baking powder in those days, fifteen pounds of plug- 
tobacco and twenty of smoking. 

(15) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiMnnriiHiMiriiMiniiMiMiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiitiriiMiuriiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiLiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiriiiiiiMiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiriiMiiiii 

Our traveling outfit consisted of, three yoke of steers, one yoke 
of cows, one span of mules, one riding pony, one camp wagon, one 
grub wagon. One of the cows was giving milk when we started 
and we milked her every day on the journey. The other was not 
giving milk when we started but McClellan said if we would go 
through the process of stripping her regularly she could be brought 
to her milk, and we followed her advice and in about four weeks she 
was giving four quarts of fine milk at each milking. We would pour 
the morning's milk in a large covered stone jar, and at noon there 
would often be a half pound of butter that had been churned by the 
motion of the wagon, on top of the milk. 



(IG) 




HENRY KINGMAN IN 1859 



From a broken Daguerretype that was taken on his arrival 
in California. 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

niiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiniiiriiiiJiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiJiMiiiiiMiiMiiiiliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirijiiiJiiiiiiiiJiiniiJiniiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiii 



CHAPTER IV 

THE START FOR THE GOLD MINES IN THE 
MOUNTAINS IN THE SPRING OF 1859 



The first day we started at nine o'clock, but only made six 

3, when we went into camp at Groveland, where we knew a good 

y people. Several of the boys we knew came down to camp and 

t the evening with us. We had pitched our tent, a practice we 

wed every night during our journey. The weather was raw and 

and the fire in our tent was much appreciated by each of us. 

had a piece of rubber ducking the size of the tent which we 

td on the ground inside the tent, set up the stove, got supper 

smoked. This was the regular routine during our trip. This 

night, after our friends had gone, we took off our boots, some 

ovir coats, which we used for pillows, rolled in our blankets and 

fine until late in the morning. Our cattle was unbroken when 

tarted, and for six weeks we never took the yokes off from 

, but let them feed around fastened in that way. We knew we 

1 have a time to catch them if they were loose from each other. 

The second day we started about nine o'clock, and made ten 
, passed through the city of Peoria, camping on the outskirts 
01 , • city on the west side. It was cold, with snow and rain at times 
and .aud everywhere, all through Illinois and Iowa. -After we reach- 
ed Iowa the days v/ere all much alike. Mud everywhere and few 
settlers. We crossed the Mississippi river at Burlington, where we 
had to remain for several days on account of high water, finally 
crossing on a steam ferry. We crossed the Des Moines river at 
Ottumwa. After crossing the Des Moines river, four young men 

(17) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

MiiriMMMiMiiMiiMiiriiniirirMiinriiriMMiiiiMiiiiiirriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiriiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

from northern Iowa fell in with us. All through Iowa we were forc- 
ed to double team every few miles in order to get out of the mud. 

We passed many abandoned wagons, whose owners had left them 
stuck in the mud while they went back home horse back. These were 
mostly settlers either going or returning from some town where 
they had been trading. All through Iowa we had a terrible time 
getting feed for our stock. The settlers were not well provided with 
feed themeselves, and more ofter than not, when we asked to buy corn 
or hay, they would refuse, saying they had not enough for themselves. 
Some ordered us away but we didn't leave until we got one or the 
other, either hay or corn. We paid one dollar per bushel for corn, 
the same for a hundred pounds of hay. The German war was not 
going on then either. 

We found some game along the Des Moines river, prairie chick- 
ens, pheasants and quail. Occasionally we got a "prairie rabbit." 
This we skinned, and while they were never fat, fresh pork tasted 
mighty good to us when cooked and well seasoned. 

Now and then when passing some farm house we would "fish" 
a little. We had a baited fish hook attached to a long line. When 
we got a "bite" we would pull it hurriedly into the wagon, wring its 
neck and have a fine stewed chicken for supper. 

It was the first of May when we reached Nebraska City, where 
we found Ramsey and the provisions. He had only been waiting four 
days, navigation being very slow in those days. Nebraska City at 
that time had a population of about one thousand, and was a shipping- 
point for the government supplies to Ft. Kearney, Laramie and Salt 
Lake. We stayed to see the sights. 

A government train was made up of twenty six wagons, each 
wagon weighing twenty five hundred pounds. To each of these were 
attached six yoke of oxen. They started out with the six best broke 
oxen in the lead, with the cattle chained to those in front, and so on 
all through the line. Each wagon carried a load of approximately 
four tons. These supplies consisted of boots, clothing, amunition, 
and the regular provisions. 

Even at that time they had a compressed and strongly condensed 
preparation which was used for soup. It consisted of meat, .potatoes 
cabbage, "onions, in fact all kinds of vegetables. The original cake 

(18) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

Mllllllll MIIIIIMIMII LIIIIJ ill mill Illllhllllll IIIIMIIIinillllllllUIMIIIIIIIIIIIII II Illll I IMIIIII 

of this soup was about four feet square and so hard that a saw was 
used in breaking it into pieces. The soldiers gave us a piece about 
a foot square. A piece, six inches square v/ould, when boiled for 
several hours, make a large kettle of, what seemed to me, the best 
soup I had ever tasted. 

From time to time other wagons would join us, and at this time 
there were one hundred wagons on the trail, all bound for Pikes Peak 
"or bust." All kinds of placards were on the outside of these 
wagons. Pictures, too, of all kinds were displayed. The picture of 
an elephant, or a hog were most frequently seen. "Pikes Peak or 
Bust," "Bound for the Gold Fields," and on the wagons of those re- 
tui-ning, "-ed" was added and "Busted by G-d," was on many. 

Leaving Nebraska City we traveled westward for several days, 
when We reached what is known as Elm Creek. Here we found five 
hundred wagons in camp. Many of the campers had been on the 
ground for weeks, others, for ten days. Many were discouraged and 
at this point turned back, and the place became known as the first 
"turn table." 

On the trail I saw all kinds of conveyances. Carts to which one 
horse was hitched, loaded with the owners camp outfit. At one time 
a cart which was being pulled by two men, while two others pushed 
from the rear. At another time I saw a cow and a horse yoked to- 
gether. At another a man with a wheel barrow, in which he had 
everything he owned on earth. 

At this time we were making from ten to fifteen miles per day. 
If a good feeding point was found, with water, by the man who rode 
ahead for that purpose, we stopped and fed at noon. We always went 
into camp early, not later than six o'clock. 

Traveling day after day made the cattle's feet sore and we were 
forced to shoe them. We had anticipated something like this and had 
provided sole leather which we cut to fit each half of the foot. These 
we nailed on with clinch nails, which were driven at intervals through 
the hoof and clinched. These shoes would last for two or three days. 

Among us we had a violin, tambourine and bones so every night 
our camp was lively place. By this time five or six crowds traveled 
and camped together, and after everything was made secure for the 
night we would build a large camp fire from sage brush, grease 

(19) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iniiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiriiniiMiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiri{iijiiiiiii>iiiiiFMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiriiriiiiiiiiiiMiiiiMriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiijiii 

wood and cow chips, and spend the evenings most pleasantly, with 
music, such as it was, song and story telling. Time passed swiftly. 

One man, who traveled alone, drove four yoke of oxen to a wagon 
loaded with cigars and tobacco which he was going to sell to the 
miners in the gold fields. Leaving this place we traveled two weeks 
each day being much like the day before. Every day we would meet 
people returning, saying it was all a humbug. Some days we would 
meet as many as a dozen wagons, on other days three, four or five. 

We traveled all this time on the south side of the Platte river. 
Arriving at a place called Cottonwood Creek we found encamped 
fully one thousand wagons, extending for three miles up and down 
the creek. These men gathered round a common camp fire, and 
some who had been to Pikes Peak said it was all a joke, a humbug. 
These speeches influenced many to change their plans about going 
on, and we were among the number. Many decided to go to Cali- 
fornia. We remained at this camp two days then taking up the same 
trail, which by this time was a well defined roadway, sixty feet in 
width, the grass all trampled out. 

On reaching South Fork we found the river very high, and we 
camped for several days. On the fourth day some of the boys de- 
cided to cross over and investigate, which they did. The Platte river 
with its treacherous sand bars, its appearing and disappearing waters 
in the qviick sands, is too well known at this time to need description 
from me. It is at this point fully a mile in width. They found that 
it would be possible, by doubling up the cattle, so that when some 
were being swept off their feet by the rushing waters, others would 
have comparatively good footing in shallow places, thereby enabling 
us to cross at this point. One man went ahead, horseback, with a 
rope attached to the horns of the "lead" cattle, while all down the 
line of twenty-six cattle, men walked at intervals holding ropes tied 
to the horns of the cattle. The wagons were taken, one at a time, 
the bed of the wagon having been securely tied or chained to the 
running gears. Even by doing this some were swept away, and some 
fell apart. The bed would sweep away, king bolt would fall out 
and the running gears separate. Some few succeeded in getting 
them together, but they were generally lost. All day long we worked 
as hard as we could getting five wagons across the river. We went 
into camp a tired set. 

(20) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iMiMiiMiiMMniMMiiiiiMniininiiniiMiiJMniiiiiriMiiiMiiMiiniiiiMiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiitMiMiiiiiiiiJiNiiMiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiriMMiiiiiiiiii 

The following- niorninp,- we g-ot an early start up Ash Hollow, 
making about fifteen miles. Went into ^camp, nothing of special 
interest here. Next morning we made another early start, and that 
day reached the North Platte river, a distance of fifteen miles. Found 
good grazing all along the river, cattle were gaining weight right 
along now. 



(21) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

>iiriniMniii(iMiinMiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiLiiiiiiM>iiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiniuiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiininiiiiniiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirijiijiriiiiiriiiiiiiiii 



CHAPTER V 

THE FIRST INDIANS; INDIAN BODIES ON 
TREES AND POLES 



Some of the men were homesick, but as for myself I never felt 
better. This was the kind of a life for me, only a boy of seventeen, 
far away from home and kindred, the new, strange wild country had 
a charm for me never experienced before. I loved the life I was 
living and had no regrets for days gone, nor worry over a future that 
seemed far away, so little worth worrying about that it caused me 
not even a moment's anxiety. I had not written to mother as yet; 
brother Charlie had written once, but I was away from home two 
years before I wrote mother. I make no excuse for not writing, few 
boys I dare say would have been so neglectful. 

The prairie was filled with beautiful flowers in full bloom, all 
strangers to me. I could tell a sunflower when I saw one, but few 
other flowers had ever been given much attention by me. The sun 
shone so brightly during the day and on moonlight nights (there 
seemed more of them out here) the world had a fantastic appearance 
and charm for me, impossible to describe. 

One day we camped for dinner, which was on the table — said 
table being an oil cloth spread on the ground, 'round which we gath- 
ered, using tin plates and cups, steel knives and forks. We had just 
taken our places when we saw four Indians, horse back, approaching. 
They had the appearance of being on the war path. All v/ere painted 
and had feathers in their hair, some of which were dyed red, and 
fastened to their hair were silver dollars which had been hammered 
flat and almost as large as the palm of ones hand, with holes in them 

(22) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiiiiMiiiiiniiiiiLiiiiiMitiirt I iMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMMiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiriiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMKii 

like buttons through which a piece of sinew was passed and then 
tied to their hair. 

Jumping from their ponies they rushed up to where we were 
sitting, when McClellan, who talked some Indian, told them to sit 
down, while he prepared and handed each of them two flap jacks and 
a piece of meat, which they greedily devoured, as a half starved ani- 
mal might have done. One of them having made away with his, 
reached over and seized my pancake and meat wiping my plate up 
with it, and taking a big bite, would soon have had it all eaten, but I 
slapped him square in the face. This naturally caused a commotion, 
every one jumped up, the Indians pow-wowing and McClellan trying 
his best to pacify them. At the same time telling me I had done an 
awful thing. I was madder than a hornet, I grabbed my gun, which 
was lying near at hand, and motioned for the Indians to step out 
and we would settle it with guns. McClellan at last succeeded in 
quieting them somewhat, but they v/ent away muttering, and Mc said 
I would have to watch out now for they would sure "get" rne some 
day. 

After they had gone I took my gun and went some little distance 
from camp to let the mules graze. I had a forty foot picket rope at- 
tached to each mule, and holding them in my hand and I lay down on 
the ground and before I knew or realized anything I was fast asleep. 
The rope slipped from my hand and the mules wandered off. One of 
the boys found them, and thinking I had gone on ahead to try to kill 
a sage hen, jack rabbit, or antelope, thepe being all the game we 
had seen, they hitched up and drove on. When I awoke the sun was 
low in the sky, and I had slept so soundly I could not, to save my life, 
tell whether the sun was going down or coming up, nor which was 
east, nor which was west. 

We were not far from the river and I went there to see which 
way the water was running, and saw two wagons coming towards me, 
in which were two men of whom I asked if it was morning or even- 
i.ig. They laughed, said it was evening, that they were coming from 
the west. I then asked them if they had seen our outfit which I tried 
to describe, but they said they had met so many it was impossible to 
tell. I started west along the trail, walking as rapidly as possible, 
but it was half past nine o'clock before I finally reached camp, where 
the boys had built an unusually large camp fire and were preparing to 
go back over the trail in search of me, fearing the Indians had "got" 
me sure. 

(23) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiiininiiiiMiiiiriiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiniiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiMiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiMiiiiiiiiMiuiiiiiiii 

We g-ot a pretty good start the next morning and that evening 
camped in a most desirable spot where we had both feed and water. 
About sundown I went out hunting squirrels and grouse. Not far 
from camp I ran across an Indian "buried" in the top of a tree. I 
thought at first that the object that I saw was some kind of an ani- 
mal, and hurried back to camp, when five of the boys returned with 
me. One of the men said it was an Indian burying ground, that the 
Crow Indians buried their dead in that way. I was not at all satis- 
fied with his explanation, and decided to investigate on my own hook. 
I climbed the tree, which was the size of a man's body, the object I 
was trying to reach was fully twenty feet from the ground in the 
forks of the tree. Having, with much effort, at last reached the ob- 
ject, I found that the scaffold was built by placing two large poles 
lengthwise, with branches or small trees crosswise, and these were" 
fastened securely with sinews to the poles at each end. The contain- 
er for the body was made from either horse or cow hide, and sewed 
tightly together. I took my knife from my belt and made a gash in 
the hide, when I saw before me the skeleton of an Indian, who had 
been wrapped in blankets with beads and pipe and I don't know wViat 
else. I opened the case over the head of the gruesome thing and 
siezed a string of beads and quickly descended the tree. We all re- 
turned to camp and in spite of the experience just related we had 
music all the evening, as was an every night occurrance, often hold- 
ing until eleven o'clock. 

At this time there were about twenty men, each wagon hav- 
ing its own "mess" pot cooked on their own camp fire. These 
camp fires were made and kept burning by using buffalo chips, 
gathered each day from the plains, with sometimes a little cotton- 
wood. Next morning we started out in good time, and in the after- 
noon reached the place where General Kearney had played havoc 
with the Indians the year before. At this place we found five other 
Indians buried, not on a tree scaffold however. These were scatter- 
ed over about an acre of ground. Here the scaffold was made by 
having four poles set in the ground and the poles attached the same 
as in the first one. Having found out what the curious looking 
things were, we did not molest them. 

This was on the North Platte and for two weeks we traveled up 
the stream, sometimes near, sometimes two or three miles away 
from its banks. Every night four men were on guard, two in the 
first part of the night, two the latter part of the night. We did this 

(24) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

MiiiiiiiniiitiiiiiiiiMiiiM iiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiii rMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMii iiiiii i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

to prevent the Indians from stealing up and stampeding our cattle. 

One nio'ht I went about two miles up a little tributary to graze 
the cattle. It was my turn in company with another man to watch. 
It was about one o'clock, the cattle were all lying down. My pard- 
ner started to camp to send our relief, leaving me alone. This was 
our custom. When it was time for a change in watch one would go 
after the relief, thereby leaving one alone. The moon was full, 
making everything almost as plain as day, except close to the river 
where the brush grew. Something, I knew not what, ran from the 
shadows by the creek, out to the cattle which all jumped up and ran 
towards the spot where I was lying on a little knoll. I raised my gun 
and fired, having run down through the cattle. I supposed the thing 
was a wolf. At the camp they heard the report of my gun and eight 
or ten men came running as fast as possible to where I was. After 
telling them what had occurred we drove the cattle down to camp. 

The next morning early we went out over the ground, to discover 
if possible, what it was that had almost stampeded the cattle, and to 
find if I had hit what ever it was. All along the stream going south 
and along the sand bars we found moccasin tracks. 

On the following day v/e saw and killed our first yearling buf- 
falo bull. Travelers, whom we met the next day said that an enor- 
mous herd of at least one thousand had gone north. The four or five 
that we saw were evidently stragglers from that herd. From this 
time on we had plenty of buffalo meat. 



(25) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

»iniiiiiMiMiiiniiiiiiiiiMiriiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiMiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiu 



CHAPTER VI 

FRONTIER FROLIC; WONDERS OF THE 
FIRST VIEW OF THE MOUNTAINS 



Our next camping place bore the name of Deep Creek. This 
we reached on the evening of July third, and went into camp to re- 
main until after the Fourth. Deep Creek was a French trading post 
containing one building made of poles with adobe roof, and run by 
a Frenchman, who, like many others, had married a squaw. 

This building, if such it could be called, was divided into two 
rooms, the front room being used as the store room, where the owner 
traded or sold furs, tobacco, moccasins, pipes, beads and other things 
besides whiskey, for anything anyone had to offer. The back room 
was the living room. On the morning of the Fourth Indians of 
both sexes began arriving at the "Post" to the number of forty, not 
including the pappooses. About noon each camp had an extra good 
dinner, in honor of the day. Quite early in the day some of the men 
took gunny sacks and went down to the river seining, and returned 
with plenty of speckled trout for both dinner and supper. During* 
the day several of the men went up Deep Creek, which was a shallow 
rocky stream, to prospect for gold, finding a few small particles, so 
small they were scarcely visible, but enough to say they had found 
their first gold at Deep Creek. 

Those of the men who remained in camp took oiir truck wagon to 
pieces. As darkness came on they took the spokes from the wheels 
and taking the hubs, placed them one above the other, and drove an 
iron pin down through them to keep them upright. The wagon had 
been an old lynch pin wagon and common tar had been used for 
lubricant, thereby saturating the hub through and through. In these 

(2G) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

lllir llllllirilllllllllMIIIIIIIIIMI IMIIIIMIIMIIII IMIIMI IIIIIIIIMIIIIIIMMIIIII IIIIIMMIMMIIIIIIIIMIMIIMIIMII I Illl rillllllMIII 

saturated hubs we built a fire which soon burned furiously, flames 
coming out of each spoke hole. The sides and bottom of the wagon 
had been smoothly laid on the ground and on this we danced. 

Our boys were the musicians, having the same violin, tambourine 
and bones that had attracted so many to our camp all along the trail. 
After dark, and by the light of the fire described above we soon 
began to dance. Not one of the squaws would dance, though they sat 
around v/atching us, and after we had partaken pretty freely of the 
"fire water" and given some to the bucks, they soon joined us on 
the platform, dancing until everybody was well warmed up. Danc- 
ing continued until after midnight. Next day I had the worst head- 
ache I ever had in my life. 

At almost dark next evening we reached a pile bridge, across 
the North Fork, or the boys riding ahead did. They came back to us 
after ascertaining that it would cost twenty-five dollars to take a 
wagon across and fifty cents apiece for our cattle. So we went into 
camp. 

Before we reached this place we heard from travelers that 
about forty miles above the bridge there was a ford that could be 
crossed when the river was not too high, and as the river was 
falling all the time, we concluded that that would be the better plan. 
We were three days making the forty miles, but having reached the 
ford, crossed without difficulty. Soon after crossing the river we 
struck the foot hills and began ascending the mountains. As many 
hundreds of travelers had crossed these mountains before us there 
was a well defined road, very narrow in places, but everything con- 
sidered, good. 

I think we were three days reaching Sweet Water, a mountain 
stream, and for two or three days we followed along its banks. 
Here we found fresh water clams, that to us who had appetites for 
anything fresh in- the meat line, like wolves, they tasted fine, but 
some of the boys were made quite ill through eating too many of 
them. 

Traveling up Sweet Water we arrived at Independence Rock. 
This rock was about a quarter of a mile in length, one hundred feet 
high and about four hundred feet through. It stood there alone, a 
thing of majesty overlooking the world, monarch of all. The rock 
was of yellow sandstone, on its surface as far as man could reach, 

(27) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iMiiMIMMiiniriiriiMiiinMiiniirMiinMiiMiniiiMriiiMiiiiiiiiiMii(iiiiiiiiii>iiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMMiiiiiiriiiii>iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

were carved the names, places from whence they came and where 
they were bound, of hundreds of those, who, like ourselves, had stop- 
ped to view at close range this awesome structure of God's hands. 

At this place we met very few returning, as all travelers on 
this trail were bound for California. While here we also viewed 
"Devil's Gate," the place where the Sweet Water ran through the 
point of the mountain. It was at a distance of two miles from the 
trail. Having arrived at, and climbed the mountain, which on this 
side sloped gradually upward for many hundred feet, we knotted 
about our waists, securely, a rope with which we had provided our- 
selves, and while three men took firm hold of it, we crawled on our 
hands and knees to the edge of the perpendicular precipice and view- 
ed the little Sweet Water calmly flowing four hundred feet below. 
Crawling back to safety we stood up and looked out to the "end of 
the world," such at least it appeared to us, who had for so many 
months been traveling the level plains. We looked over a country 
so diversified in its construction, so big, so altogether wonderful, 
that I think our careless hearts must have had some thought of Him 
who was the maker and builder of it all. 

About twenty feet across from this rock was another mountain 
peak, whose walls at this point were also perpendicular, together 
making what was called "Devil's Gate." This we learned from a 
guide book obtained at a trading post. From this place we went 
about twelve miles to Pacific Springs, on top of the mountain, the 
water flowing from which is the first water running west. The 
surface of the ground was wet, digging down abut two feet we found 
ice, the sun striking this melted it causing the water to run down the 
mountain side. 

We camped here two days, and here we decided to split up; 
brother Charlie, McClellan and myself decided to go to California, 
while Emer Ramsey, Free Kingman and Al Clark were going to Den- 
ver. Brother Charlie, Mc and myself took the cattle and the wagon 
we started out with and the others took the mules and an abandoned 
wagon. The second night after we separated, just after we had 
gone into camp, who should drive in but the three we had parted 
from two days before. They turned back the next day, or in the 
evening of the first day, and following us with our oxen, and they 
with the mules, they soon overtook us. We were glad to have them 
with us again, I should say we were. 

(28) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

lllllllllllllllinillllli:nlllMlllllllillllllllllllllllllMllimillllllllllllMIIIMIIMIIMIIIMIM(ll lllirMIIIIIIIIHIII IIMIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIMIIIirilMIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIII 

After this for about ten days there was little change in the 
scenery or anything- we did. Traveling all this time through very 
rough country. Occasionally we killed a jack rabbit or a sage hen, 
but game was scarce. At the end of this time we made the descent 
to the bend of Bear river. This we accomplished by putting a yoke 
of cattle ahead on the tongue of the wagon, another attached to the 
rear, all wheels locked and with ropes tied to the wagon to which we 
all hung for dear life, finally reaching the foot in safety. At this 
time there were four wagons in line besides our own, all went into 
camp but there was no sleep for anyone on account of the mosquitos, 
which seemed to us as large as grasshoppers and as hungry as wolves. 
We made several smudges from sage brush and grease wood to try 
and keep our cattle from stampeding. They would back up in the 
smoke and almost set fire to their tails, trying to get away from the 
pests. 

One night like that was quite enough for us and when morning 
came we gladly continued our journey, which brought us to the bend 
of Bear river. At this point Bear river turned from v.'est to south, 
and here was what was known as Steamboat and Soda Springs. These 
springs were entirely unlike. Steamboat spring threw up a substance 
which, when it became dry, was of a reddish-brown color. One of the 
boys filled a bottle half full of water from the spring, then finished 
filling it from the other, when it foamed as soda v/ould in sour milk. 



(29) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

tiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiLiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiniiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiLiiiiiiiiiiMiriiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit 



CHAPTER VII 

BY CHOOSING THE VALLEY ROAD ESCAPE 
MASSACRE BY THE INDIANS 



Here we were in camp with Campbell's train. This train was 
made up of eight wag-ons and forty head of blooded horses which 
were being imported for breeding purposes; all draft horses, in fine 
condition. When we broke camp that morning, Campbell's train 
went by the way of "Sublette's cut off" across a range of mountains 
to Green river, while we took the Fort Hall road, which was perhaps 
one hundred miles further, but there was fine feed this way, and with 
our cattle this was important to us. 

The second night out from this camp, a friendly Indian came 
to our camp and told us that Campbell's train had all been murdered, 
but one woman, who had been scalped and left for dead, but was 
still living when some travelers came and rescued and revived her, 
and took her on to Green river where we saw her. She, when able 
to talk, said that the men who did the murdering were not all In- 
dians. While she was conscious, but helpless, two white men ravish- 
ed her, then beat her over the head and left her for dead. The gov- 
ernment troops came out and when they returned took the woman 
with them to California. 

At Green river, a deep swift stream, we crossed on a raft made 
of logs. We took our wagons over on that but swam our cattle. The 
current was swift, the water cold, river not more than sixty feet 
wide, on one side a steep bank. As the cattle entered the water 
they were caught by the current and thrown back to the bank. This 
occurred several times, when brother Charlie rode his horse into the 
water to try and force the cattle in and across the river, but it 

(30) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

MIIMMIIIIinillMIMIIIIIIirillMIIIIIIIIIIJIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIINIIIIIIJIIIIIIIIIIIIMIMIIIIIIIIIIirilllllinilJIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIMIIIMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIII 

caught the horse, turned him over and Charley went under, the water 
being- twenty or thirty feet deep and the horse whirling and rolling 
around. 

It was fully a minute before we saw his head above the water. 
We thought sure he had drowned, and did not see how, with the cattle 
milling around, and the terrible current, it could be other wise. Horse 
and cattle were washed two hundred feet down the stream before 
they could land, while Charlie was whirled five hundred down the 
stream from where he entered it. At last all were safely landed on 
the opposite side. 

The raft had been built by some emigrants who knew of no other 
way in which to cross, and, having built it, they found it a veritable 
gold mine. From here we crossed a low range of mountains which 
took about four days, when we arrived at Humboldt river. Not so 
many emigrants here, growing fewer in number now all the time. 

In the Humboldt vallev we killed antelope, which were a welcome 
change from sage hens. We traveled for two weeks down the Hum- 
boldt river; nothing of importance happened, and we arrived with- 
out mishap at Humboldt meadows. This, as the name implies, was a 
meadow with grass fine and abundant. 

From here one trail went into the sink, where the river disap- 
peared entirely, and then over the Kit Carson trail into California. 
Some traveling with us took this route, while we took "Lander's cut 
off" into Honey Lake valley, a distance of about two hundred miles 
through the desert which was sand and alkali. It was terribly hot 
and of course, dry. Before leaving the meadows we mowed a lot of 
hay which we carried along with us for feed. After traveling about 
thirty miles we arrived at Mud springs, these being the first springs 
or watering places fixed by the government, from the east. 

The next spring was' between fifty and sixty miles from here 
to a place called Rabbit Hole. This distance required two days and 
our cattle at each had an allowance of both water and feed. We saw 
on the way many cattle that had been turned out by their owners to 
die or to be taken up by some one who was in need of them and could 
feed them. Many were dead, all dying for lack of food and water. 
We picked up one steer that had been left and was in better con- 
dition than any of the others, fed and watered him, and he went with 
us into California. 

(31) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiniiiiiiiMiiiiiMiriiiiiitiMiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiMiiiiMiiiiiiiiitiiiliiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiliiiiiiiiiii 

The next stopping place was Hot Springs, a distance of sixty 
miles, twenty of which was through deep sand, and forty of alkali 
desert on which nothing grew. Every man walked every step of 
the way. By this time our load was becoming light and our grub low. 
At Hot Springs the government had l^id gas pipe from the springs 
a distance of one hundred and fifty feet to holes dug out in the 
ground, through which the water could run, that it might cool suffi- 
ciently for the cattle and horses to drink. When it came from the 
springs it was too hot to bear one's hand in it. Rocks were piled 
around the spot where the water bubbled from the ground. A few 
grass roots not far from the spring was the only sign of vegetation. 

Crossing the desert we did most of our traveling by night. The 
moon was full, the mirage the most wonderful sight I have ever seen. 
The wagons, when only a short distance away, seemed like a fleet of 
white ships sailing on a white sea, everything took on that spooky 
light that changed even the shapes of things. Even bones of animals, 
horses and cattle that had died there, when seen at a distance looked 
like a boat or something in motion. We were glad, indeed, when we 
left the haunted spot. From Hot Springs to "Deep Hole" was a dis- 
tance of between fifty and sixty miles, with nothing to be seen but 
the alkali, which was white and hot and hard as a floor. 

Several of the Deep Hole springs were between one and two 
hundred feet deep and ten feet across, the water coming within three 
or four feet of the top, was clear and cold, being the first good water 
we had had since we left Humboldt. From Deep Hole springs to 
Honey Lake valley was a distance of forty miles. The surface of the 
ground was granite rock, covered with boulders from the size of a 
water bucket to that of a barrel. Some of these were round, some 
oblong, and all as smooth and polished as if they were ground. They 
were lying thickly all over the ground, except for a distance of 
twenty miles where the government had had the boulders removed 
for a space twenty feet wide, or room for two wagons to pass, al- 
though in places it was narrower. 

The valley was thirty miles in length and from five to twenty 
miles wide, the lake being located in the east end. The lake was two 
miles wide and ten long. At the entrance to the valley there was a 
hot spring in which we could boil eggs and meat, and with which we 
made our coffee. At this time there were perhaps two hundred peo- 
ple scattered throughout the valley. There were two small hamlets, 
one, Susanville, contained a half dozen small buildings, some of which 

(32) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

IIMIMMMIIIIMMIMMIIIIinillMMIIIIinirMIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIMIIMIinillMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIJIIIIinilllirnilllliri 

were built of logs. With plenty of pine, fir and spruce trees and a 
portable engine, it was not difficult to procure an abundance of lum- 
ber at ten dollars a thousand feet. At this place there were two 
stores. At the other little place which was called Richmond named 
by some southern people after Richmond, Va., there was only one 
store, and that was in one end of a log building used as a hotel, and 
here we located for the winter. 



(33) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

'i(iNiriniJiiiiMiijiuiiJLiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiijiriiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijriiiiiiiiiiiii 



CHAPTER VIII 

A BRUSH WITH THE SOLDIERS; A TRAGIC 
FRONTIER COURTSHIP 



In Honey Lake Valley we once more "split up," only brother 
Charlie and myself remaining' in the valley, the others going- on over 
the Sierra Nevada mountains into California. During- the winter, 
having nothing to do time hung- heavy on our hands, so we looked 
around to find some place in which to open a saloon. The landlord 
of the hotel finally consented for us to board up a porch which was 
on the side of the building, which we did and then put in a bar made 
of plain rough boards, some home made card tables, made from dry 
goods boxes turned upside down. The whiskey and gin we bought 
by the keg, the peach brandy came in large, wide mouth bottles, and 
in each bottle were sometimes three, sometimes four or five peaches 
which we sold for twenty five cents each, adding- a very little brandy. 

We ran this saloon about three months, when Charlie struck out 
for Virginia City, having heard that rich paying quartz had been 
struck. These mines were known as the Comstock and Golden Cour- 
ier mines. In about two weeks he returned, having staked some 
claims there. We bought some provisions with which to run a rest- 
uarant. We engaged a man to take the things over the mountain to 
Virginia City, when a heavy snow fell on the mountains making such 
a trip impossible at that time. 

Early in the fall we had built a cabin with boards set up and 
down, battened cracks, and in this we continued to live until spring. 

Mail came once a month by pony express, this being a man on 
horseback or skis. Letters were twenty five cents each, papers were 
the same, magazines were fifty cents, all these in addition to the reg- 

(34) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiMiiiiiiiniMiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiri i i limiiiiiiiii i iiiiiiimimiimiiimiiii fill nil iiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilil 

ular postage of three cents. The pony express made a distance of 
seventy five miles once each month, over the Sierra Nevada moun- 
tains to Plumas, the county seat of Plumas county, California, and re- 
turn, making a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. 

In the valley there v/as at that time about a dozen women. A 
company of cavalry was stationed at Susanville to keep a lookout for 
the Piute Indians, who had been committing depredations on settlers 
and emigrants. During the winter there were dances at both Susan- 
ville and Richmond, which everybody, old and young, attended. 

At one of the dances at Susanville the soldiers came up there 
with their revolvers strapped on them and were going to "run the 
dance.'". Whiskey was at the bottom of most of the troubles in 
those days, as it has been and will ever will be, until there is no more. 
The soldiers had been drinking. The dances were always held in the 
one large rooin over the hotel in which were fifteen or twenty cots, 
few men having wives, all occupied the same room. 

Before a dance all the cots were piled up in one end of the room. 
The stairway, 'round which there was a slight railing, opened a little 
to the east of the center of the building. A.bout midnight, after the 
soldiers had been dancing most of the evening with what v/omen there 
were, and the whiskey had begun to take effect, a "free-for-all" fight 
took place. Fifteen or twenty shots were fired in the hall, but for- 
tunately no one was injured. Our boys knocked the soldiers down, 
took their revolvers from them and threw them down stairs. During 
the fight the women huddled in one corner half frightened to death. 
That ended the soldiers coming to any more dances. 

Once a week during the winter two men named Smith and 
Strauss taught dancing school down in the lov/er end of the valley. 
Living down there were two men by the name of John and Aleck 
Chatman. The fall before this, about the time we arrived, these 
men had four cousins come into the valley and settle. Two of them 
were girls, Julia and Emiline Chatman, both very handsome girls, 
one dark and the other fair; Julia the eldest, was twenty two, Emil- 
ine twenty, at this time, both fine appearing girls. Naturally every 
unmarried man went v.ild about them. 

Soon after the dancing school began down there, which they 
attended, it became apparent to everyone that Smith, one of the 

(35) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

IrnlMIMIMIMIIIIUIIIIMIIMIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIMllllllllllllNllllllllllllllllirillJIUIIIIIJIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIJIIIirilllllllMllllllllinillllllJIIIIIIJIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIJJII 

teachers, had fallen desperately in love with Emiline. John Chat- 
man, a cousin, was also in love with her, and swore that Smith 
should never marry the girl. Smith was a small thin man, while Chat- 
man was a six footer, a regular bully and desperado^ and declared 
he would kill Smith on sight if he did marry Emiline. But love 
knows no fear, except the fear of losing the object loved. 

In the meantime Strauss had built and was running a saloon 
across the street from the hotel. One day I sat in the saloon playing- 
cards with Smith and I happened to look up and through the glass 
door saw Chatman coming from the hotel. I said to Smith, "There 
comes John Chatm.an." Smith had heard of Chatman's threats of 
taking his life on sight, and he jumped up and went to walking the 
floor. I went out at the front door, and meeting Chatman at the 
door said, "Hello John;" he spoke and passed on into the building. 

He had no sooner entered than Smith opened fire, striking him 
in the right shoulder, disabling his arm. Chatman made a rush for 
Smith, grabbed him with his left arm and tried to crush him against 
the wall, when Smith shot him again, this time in the neck. Chat- 
man turned and passed out the door, trying all the time to get his 
revolver out from the front of his shirt, when Smith followed him to 
the door and shot him again twice in the back. Chatman, although 
so badly wounded, went back into the saloon with his revolver in his 
left hand, but Smith made his escape through the back door. 

All this time I had been standing in the middle of the street. 
Chatman, growing weak from the loss of blood, came to where I was 
standing, handed me his revolver and said, "Take me into the hotel;" 
which I did. We placed him on a cot, and he told brother Charlie 
to go outside and fire off his revolver so that he would know that 
everyone was good. This Charlie did, finding them all right; when 
at Chatman's request he reloaded and handed the revolver to him 
which he placed under his pillow, where it remained until he died, 
which was nine days from the shooting. Charlie was sitting by the 
side of the bed just before Chatman died, when he raised up suddenly 
threw Charlie off on the floor, and shouting that he was going to kill 
Smith, fell back dead. 

There were no courts, no laws at that time in that part of the 
country. No one was certain whether we were in Nevada or Cali- 
fornia,so a judge was appointed by the citizens, so that court could 

(36) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iMiiiiiiiiiiMiMiiniMiininiiiuuiininiMiiiiinunjiiiiiiiiiJiNiiiiiMiiiJiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiniiiiriiriiiMiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiinriiiiMiiMiiiMiiiiiiMiNJiiiiJiiiiiii 

be held. Smith was arrested and was put in charge of an officer 
appointed by the new judge. There being no jail nor other phice 
in which incarcerate those who committed crime, Smith was, as 
usual, out on the street, the only difference being that he was ac- 
companied by the sheriff recently appointed. 

Two men, pettifoggers, were appointed as attorneys to prosecute 
and defend the combatants. Twelve men, "tried and true," (to say 
this about them was a farce,) were chosen as jurymen. The trial 
was held in the saloon where the crime had been committed. It 
was proven that Smith did the killing in self defense and he was 
freed. In about a month after he was pronounced free, he was mar- 
ried to Emiline Chatman, on whose account the tragedy occui'red. 
They were still living in the valley when I left Nevada. 



(37) 



iMHMMBH^ 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iMiMMMiiMiiiniiiniiiJiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiMiMijiiiiMiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiniiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiriiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiirjriiiii 



CHAPTER IX 

FRONTIER POLITICS. GOLD "SLUICING" IN 
CALIFORNIA. INDIAN MASSACRE 



I forgot to mention before, that the fall after I landed in Ne- 
vada, I voted for Abraham Lincoln for president. I was not yet 
eighteen years old, but there were no laws in Nevada, and few in 
California in Plumas county, where I voted for president and also 
for county officers. Later, when I had been two years in Califor- 
nia and returned to Nevada, which was at that time being organized 
for a state, I voted both in Nevada and California. In Susanville, 
where the election was held, the Nevada election booth was on one 
side of the street, the California on the other. I voted both for Gov- 
ernor, state and county officers. We had never heard of "stuffing 
the ballot box" then, but this was scarcely along that line, as we re- 
ally did not know whore we belonged as yei;, state lines had not 
been established. 

Both sets of officers tried to hold court, when they got into a 
fight. The California officers tried to arrest the Nevada officers 
and prevent them from holding court, but they resisted. Finally 
the Nevada officers went into a log cabin and made a fort of it, 
from there they fired on any officer who came within range, finally 
killing two men, one of whom was the Judge from Plumas county, 
California. After this the Plumas county officers sent over the 
mountains for a four pound cannon, otherv/ise known as a mountain 
howitzer, with which to blow the cabin to pieces. 

A man by the name of Neal gathered up eight of we valley men, 
and we went into Susanville horseback carrying "flags of truce." 
Prior to this time, no one was safe on the streets of Susanville after 
the feud began. Neal held council on both sides, and they agreed 

(38) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

IIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIirilllllllllllllllMlirilMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIinlllllMIIIMIMIMrMIIIIIIII riirMIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIMIIIIIIIIIJIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIII 

to have a "pony express" sent to Virginia City and over the moun- 
tain to California, to both governors, and procure their decision in 
the matter. Both governors declared that neither party should hold 
jurisdiction over that territory until after the state line had been 
established, which was accomplished sometime during that year. 



In the spring Charlie and I went into the Sierra Nevada moun- 
tains to do surface mining. We built a small cabin, made twelve 
sluice boxes, which were fourteen inches at one end and twelve 
at the other so that they would fit, one in the other, then we put in 
the bottom of the boxes sticks of pieces of inch wide pine, three of 
them to each box, which we called "riffles." These were to catch 
the gold, and into each box we also put quicksilver, dividing a pound 
to the twelve boxes, this was to attract the gold. 

We run the water from a mountain stream a half mile distant, 
and from which we dug a ditch for the water to pass through to the 
sluice boxes. Then we shoveled dirt and soil down to bed rock into 
these boxes and the water would wash out the dirt, leaving the gold 
with the quicksilver. We would take the quicksilver out of the boxes 
once a week when Vv-e burned the quicksilver off from the gold; 
where they had one, they used a retort and saved the quicksilver to 
use again. We mined there four months, or until the last of June, 
making from one dollar to two fifty a day. Not a "get rich quick" 
scheme by any means. 

That same spring, before we left the valley, either in April or 
May, seven men v/ho freighted from Honey Lake to Humboldt, two 
hundred miles distant, when on their return, as they neared Deep 
Hole springs, just off the road described as having been made by 
the government, were attacked by Indians lying in ambush in the 
sage brush on either side of the road. As the freighters approached 
the Indians began shooting with bows and arrows and guns, and in 
no time five of the men were dead. Two of those in the lead wagon 
as soon as the shooting began, jumped from the wagon to the backs 
of the horses, catting them loose from the wagon and running them 
as fast as possible over the road, made their escape, the Indians fol- 
lowing them and shooting for some distance. 

One man was shot in the hip, the other was uninjured, and ho ar- 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

nnirniiiiifiMiiiiNiHMJiiriiniiiiunniiiMMJiriiiiiiMiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiMiMiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiniiiiiniiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJi 

rived in Honey Lake about sundown, and told the fearful tale. 
Some men rode up the valley to notify the people and by six o'clock 
of the following morning about fifty men were gathered, armed and 
ready to go and bring in the dead and try and find some of the In- 
dians. By the middle of the afternoon we arrived at the place of 
slaughter. The horses were all gone, but the wagons remained, in 
one of which we found one of the men who had been shot through 
the body and undoubtedly instantly killed. One body was lying on 
the ground on its back, with his eyes staring wide open, his abdomen 
had been cut open and his intestines stretched from his body over the 
sage brush. He had been scalped, as had all the other and all who 
wore whiskers had had them cut with the skin from their chins. 

We gathered them up, putting them in a spring wagon, spread- 
ing over them a piece of canvas, and took up the march back to 
Honey Lake for burial; they were buried in one grave, side by side. 

Three men returned v/ith the bodies, the others, after looking 
through field glasses, located what they thought was an Indian camp 
some twenty miles away. Arriving at the place they found only a 
lot of skeletons of horses and other animals, which the mirage and 
alkali desert had made to appear like persons, some of whom seem- 
ed to be moving. We did not so much as find a moccasin track. We 
then returned to Honey Lake, scattering out and keeping close watch 
for traces of Indians. It was impossible to tell what direction they 
had gone. 

Two weeks later ninety men were called to Pyramid Lake, one 
hundred and twenty five miles east. Preparations began immediate- 
ly for our departure. First several steers were butchered and the 
beef "jerked." This was accomplished by cutting the beef in nar- 
row strips and hanging it on poles over a fire, where it smoked and 
seared over so that it could be packed. Ordinarily we let the sun and 
wind dry it, but on account of lack of time we dried it in this way. 
This jerked beef, with self rising flour and coffee, constituted 
our grub. 

On the morning of the third day after the summons, all mounted 
with pack horses carrying the grub, started out. A man by the name 
of Bird, a great big fellow, who owned a thousand head of horses and 
several thousand head of cattle that run loose on the plains, living 
mostly on bunch grass, and looked after by cow boys, was captain of 

(40) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

:iiMiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiri:iiiiiniiiiiiMiiiniriiiuiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

the expedition. One hundred men had been massacred by the In- 
dians at Pyramid Lake. These men had s'one out from Gold Hill and 
Virginia City to try and capture or kill a band of Indians who had 
been committing- all kinds of depredations, rapine and murder around 
those places. These men were poorly armed and on foot. 

It was never known just what happened as there was not a man 
left alive to tell the tale. Our men found and buried twenty of the 
men. We met the government troops coming down the valley and 
they reported having buried the bodies as they found them. Every 
man had been scalped. Some we found in a sitting position with 
sharpened sticks thrust through their bodies and into the ground. All 
were stark naked. With Col Landers in command we -followed the 
trail three days but did not so much as get a glimpse of an Indian. 
Then we gave up the chase and returned to the valley. 

We were glad to get back as our provisions were all gone. The 
meat not having properly cured, spoiled, the flour gave out, and when 
we reached Captain Bird's ranch he told us to kill some beeves, which 
we did as quickly as possible and before the flesh had stopped quiver- 
ing we had some of it on the coals broiling, eating it like the half 
famished men we were. Two weeks later another company of sol- 
diers came to try another search for the Indians, but I didn't go, no 
more Indian fighting for me, but brother Charlie went, and said as 
they were riding along a narrow valley, the Indians fired on them 
from one side, killing one man. The soldiers crossed to the opposite 
hill and fired in the Indians; they didn't know whether they killed or 
wounded any or not, and as it was growing dark, they went into 
camp. The next morning an Indian was seen coming toward the 
horses by the man herding them, him they shot and killed, and throw- 
ing a lariat rope around his body, brought him into camp. Soon 
after this Col. Landers made a treaty with the Indians and warfare 
with the Piules was closed for the time being. 



(41) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

riiiiiiiiiiiiliiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimuhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiririiiiiiiriiiiriiriiiii 



CHAPTER X 

LUMBERING EXPERIENCES IN CALIFORNIA 
WHEAT THRESHING IN THE GOLDEN STATE. 



That summer I crossed the Sierra Nevada mountains into Cali- 
fornia and went to work in a saw mill at Love Locks. The following- 
spring brother Charlie came across the mountains and went to min- 
ing with a man by the name of Bill Propeck, where they made a scant 
living. I left the saw mill that summer and went to work on a hog- 
ranch, ten miles from anybody. 

The first two weeks I was there I only saw one human being, 
and that was a Digger Indian. The house, or cabin, where I batch- 
ed, had been intended for a two room building made from lumber, but 
never finished, having neither doors nor windows. It was in a small 
valley containing about ten acres of land which my employer ex- 
pected to put in potatoes at some future time. It was surrounded 
on all sides by tall pines, cedar, fir and balsam trees. Near the house 
was a spring of clear cold water. There were between forty and 
fifty grown hogs and pigs and every night they had to be shut in an 
enclosure made and covered with poles. This was necessary to pre- 
vent the mountain lions from carrying the pigs away. 

One night, after I had shut them up, and not being able to get 
at the pigs, one came close to the place where I was sleeping and roar- 
ed loud enough, it seemed, to waken the dead; at least it awakened 
me, and I am like one dead when asleep. I confess to being fright- 
ened, my hair stood straight up I know, long as, by this time, it had 
gotten to be; but I jumped up, grabbed my revolver and fired through 
the glassless window in the direction from which the sound came. 
The moon was shining brightly, and from the open window I saw a 
dark object and fired again, but what ever it was made off to the 

(42) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iMMinniiiiMiniMiMrMiriiriiniiiiiiiiiiiiiitnMiiiiNiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiMiiMiiiiiiiiiiiitiiMiitiiinniiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiintinriiiiiiiHiiiiiMiriiiiiiniiui 

mountains. I remained there four weeks, and during that time, no 
human being had come near my cabin except the Digger Indian men- 
tioned. I went to Brigham and told him I wouldn't stay any longer; 
he refused to pay me and I left and never saw the man again. 

The following winter brother Charlie and I went up into the 
mountains and made clapboards from the sugar pine. These boards 
were six inches wide, one-fourth inch thick, and three feet long, a<ld 
we split them with a frow. 

During winter we made and piled seventy-five thousand clap- 
boards, and brother Charley got the money, which was seven dollars 
a thousand. That winter the snow on the mountains was from four 
to eight feet deep. We built a log cabin close to a big log, and the 
cabin, except the chimney, was covered with snow. The fireplace 
chimney was made with sticks and plastered with mud. Our cabin 
was twelve by sixteen feet, dirt floor, one door, no windows. 

One hundred and fifty feet from our cabin stood another about 
the same size in which lived two other men, also making clapboards. 
That winter I had the diphtheria and thought sure I would die, but 
my time, and the manner of taking off, had not yet arrived. 

In the spring we went down in the foothills and made cedar 
posts and rails, receiving two and three cents apiece ;of these we made 
five thousand. Free Kingman had been working in Love Locks in a 
saw mill and had an order on Bidwell at Chico for his pay. Free was 
sick and gave me the order to get his money for him. Bidwell, 

sometime after I returned home, ran for president on the prohibition 
ticket. He owned a land grant of fifty thousand acres. 

The hamlet of Love Locks was named after Lovelocks, the man 
who owned the mill. Lovelocks was in debt and had no money so 
he gave Free an order on Bidwell who bought all the lumber sawed 
at Love Locks. At this time two loads of lumber were being sent to 
Bidwell at Chico, each wagon carrying between six and seven thous- 
and feet of lumber, and to each wagon six yoke of oxen were attached 
Free was sick, and knov/ing the indebtedness of Lovelocks, was afraid 
the lumber would be attached before he could get his order cashed, 
so he asked me to go to Chico fur him. 

By wagon road to Chico it was sixty miles, while across a moun- 
tain path it was only thirty. I arrived in Chico several hours ahead 

(43) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

inMiiiiMiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiifiiiiiiirriiiiiiiiiiiHiiiriiiiiiNiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriJiJiiiiiMiriiiiiiiiiiMiiiiinjiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiMiiJiiii 

of the cattle train and presented my bill of lading and Free's order 
and received the money. Late that evening-, sure enough the sheriff 
arrived but did not present his claim until morning, when the clerk 
informed him the money had been paid for the lumber. 

The following afternoon Free came and we went five miles from 
Chico and took a boat down the Sacramento river to Sacramento, 
where we arrived sometime during the night. Here we remained 
two days. Sacramento, being the capital city, it contained much of 
interest to us, and we took it all in. 

From Sacramento to San Francisco there was a contest on be- 
tween two boats that left at the same time, and returned at the same 
time. We paid a quarter apiece for the trip of one hundred miles. 
After we had gone on deck the opposing boat's captain called to us 
that we could make the trip with him for a quarter with supper 
thrown in. 

Arriving in San Francisco we found a Fireman's Tournament on 
two companies of whom had come on the same boat that we did. 
The boat's band played all through the evening. When we reached 
the bay we met the opposition boat returning to Sacramento, and all 
on board our boat rushed to one side to greet them, thereby very 
nearly capsizing the boat. 

When we had been in San Francisco ten days, and could find no 
work, I got uneasy. Strolling along the wharf one day I got in con- 
versation with the captain of a sailing vessel ready to leave for the 
Hawaiian Islands and asked him if he would take me. I was at that 
time about nineteen years old, not very tall, but stocky built and 
strong as an ox, and as nimble as a cat. The captain agreed to take 
me; he had me run up the mast to see if I could climb and if I was 
steady headed. 

From the Islands he was going to China, then back to San Fran- 
cisco, but unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for me. Free found 
out what I was planning and as he had constituted himself my guard- 
ian, he persuaded me to give up the project. 

Next day Free said we would go to Los Angeles, said to be a 
distance of four hundred miles. Reports said it was a town of six 
or eight houses, the country having more ranches and cattle than 
anything else, though we saw boat loads of oranges from there even 

(44) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

nniiMiKiiuiMiiMMMiinniriiiuiiiiiiMiMiiiiniriiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiliiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

then. Everything- traveled by boat, not a railroad in California at 
that time. Two years later, however, a road of twenty-four miles 
was built from Marysville to Oraville, which was constructed by lay- 
ing ties in the usual manner, but for rails a piece of wood, four by 
six inches, strapped on top with a piece of iron a quarter of an inch 
thick for the wheels to run on and to prevent the rail from splitting. 

On our way down to the wharf we met a man by the name of 
Shimmons, with a threshing- machine that he had just gotten off 
from a ship. Free had run a threshing- machine for three years be- 
fore going to California, and the sight of the machine, the first we 
had seen since leaving home, brought a sudden desire to try his hand 
again ; so we approached the owner and asked him if he had all the 
hands he needed. He said no, and hired us both at once. He lived 
at St. Pablo and was then on his way to the ferry. As we had no 
luggage we went right along- with him and helped him cut and thrash 
his grain, which required two months, threshing from two to three 
thousand bushels a day. 

This grain was all sacked and when the tide was in, small sail 
boats drifted in, of six or eight ton capacity, manned by one man. 
Wagons loaded with the grain drove up at low tide and the grain was 
loaded from the wagons right on to the boat, and taken to San Fran- 
cisco. 



(45) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiijiJiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiinriiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 



CHAPTER XI 

A SPANISH LAND CxRANT, GRANTEE, AND 
TWO CHARMING DAUGHTERS 



The inhabitants all up and down the bay at that time were 
Spanish. At St. Pablo there lived a Spaniard who had a land grant 
of forty-thousand acres, on a portion of which near the town he had 
a vineyard, besides growing peaches and apricots. One day Free and 
I went over there to get some fruit and the old Spaniard invited us 
into the house, which was made of adobe, having a great number of 
rooms, well furnished, had a piano and guitar. 

We were introduced to the wife and two lovely daughters, aged 
eighteen and twenty. They were typical Senoritas. Free and I had 
not met any girls of such high quality, they both being rich and edu- 
cated, besides accomplighed in music. When we were ready to leave 
they all joined in inviting us to "come again soon." You may believe 
we promised to do so and did. For several months we were quite 
frequent visitors. One of the girls, Jeannette, took quite a fancy 
to me, and one day asked me how I would like to live on the ranch 
with them. I said I thought I would and that it would be all right, 
but in my heart I never trusted one of them. Not long after that 
Jeanette's father offered me twenty thousand dollars and a tract of 
four thousand acres of land, if I would marry Jeanette. 

I thought that a pretty good price to offer a moneyless man to 
take a girl off his hands. Jeanette was a beautiful girl, and I was 
much attracted by her, but I did not care for her as I thought a man 
should for the woman he wanted for his wife. One evening I bade 
them goodnight as usual and in a few days I left for San Francisco 
and Marysville. 

(46) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

IMMIMIIIIIIIMiniMIIMMIMMIIMIHIIIIIUIIIMIIHIMIIMMMIIIinilllirillllllllMlllllllirilllMIIIIIIMIIIIMMIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIMIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII 

When I arrived at Marysville I thought I would foot it to Ora- 
ville, a distance of twenty miles. The stage made daily trips and 
charged five dollars a trip. I thought I couldn't make five dollars 
any easier than by footing it, and started out. I hadn't taken into 
consideration the fact that I wore a pair of bran new boots. I had 
not gone more than five or six miles before my feet were blistered, 
and I sat down to relieve the hurting, when the stage came along, 
and I asked the driver what he would charge to take me to Oraville. 

He promptly said five dollars, and wouldn't make any reduction for 
the six miles, and I don't suppose had any sympathy with me on ac- 
count of my blistered feet. At Oraville a freighter was just leaving 
for his trip to the mountains and mines, where I had left brother Char- 
lie six months before, and I went with him. 

It was M'inter again and I went to work in a saw mill. The 
next spring I bought a horse, saddle and bridle and again crossed the 
mountains into Honey Lake valley, and when I arrived in the valley 
ten cents was every penny I had to my name. I began searching for 
work at once, had to. I found a man by the name of Clark Neal 
Vv^ho said he wanted a man to work for him, nothing being said on 
either side as to what he would pay or of what nature the work was. 
I very soon found out that I was to milk twelve cows morning and 
evening, then mow hay all day with a scythe. Mr. Neal was mighty 
fine man. His wife an English woman and a poor girl when he mar- 
ried her, and was a most peculiar woman. She knew very little about 
cooking any but the most ordinary things, but the table was always 
well supplied with such as it was. There was always dessert, which 
v,-as placed close to Mrs. Neal's plate. 

The desert consisted of pies, cake, preserves, which had neither 
been passed or served to me, until one day, I think I must have been 
homesick, I looked across at the things that made my mouth water, 
and thought of mother, and what a difference there would have been 
if I had been sitting at her table, instead of so many miles away 
among strangers, and in spite of myself I burst into tears. Mr. 
Neal quickly asked me what v/as the matter, and I told him, that al- 
though I had done his work to the best of my ability and had sat with 
him at his table each meal, I had never tasted any of the articles I 
pointed out to him. Mrs. Neal was much confused and said some- 
thing, I know not what, but Mr. Nea^. said, "Why. my bov, help vour 

(17) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iinijnniniiiniiiiriiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiifiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriirriiiniiiiiiiiiiiii;iiMiriiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiMMiiiiiiiiriiiiiiii 

self now, and at any time. You should have asked for what you 
wanted if it was not offered you." From that time on, my portion 
of any dessert served was also served to me. 

In my wandering 'round, working sometimes at any thing I 
could get to do, I, among other accomplishments, (?) learned to cook, 
and cook pretty well. I had cooked in restaurants and in camps, and 
in one hotel. I could make good bread, pies and puddings. In con- 
versation with Mrs. Neal soon after this I said I could cook, and she 
asked me to bake some pies and cakes for her, which, when baked, 
"set me up" in their opinion as well as my own. When I had been 
with Mr. Neal six months, I said to him one day, "Mr. Neal, have I 
been worth anything to you since I came here?" Not a word had 
been said about wages when I went to work for him; during that 
time he had bought for me several work shirts, tobacco, both chew- 
ing and smoking, a hat and shoes. He looked at me for a moment 
then passed into an adjoining room, soon returning with ten twenty 
dollar gold pieces, which he handed me. I was almost too surprised 
to speak, but finally said, "You didn't keep out what you have paid 
out for me, Mr. Neal;" but he said that he had and that that made 
our account straight. I finished up the year with Mr. Neal, freight- 
ing for him to Gold Hill and Virginia City. 



(48) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiniiiiii mill iiiMiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiii nil! iiiiiiiiiimiiiim iiiiiiitiiniiiiiiiniiii iuiiiiiiiiiiimiimii iiiuiii 



CHAPTER XII 

DODGING INDIANS IN THE HUMBOLDT 
COUNTRY; "HIGH COST OF LIVING" 



The following' spring I bade farewell to that part of the valley 
and with my saddle and pack horses left for the Humboldt mines. 
As the riding' horse was the one on which I made the return journey, 
I will describe him. He was snow white except for a bright red spot 
over one eye, and another on the right side, that when the saddle 
was on the blanket covered. My outfit consisted of a California 
saddle, with saddle pockets on the horn with revolver holster, saddle 
pockets on the back covered with bear skin; one pair of woolen 
blankets with rubber cover. The bridle was of Spanish make with 
braided horse hair head stall and reins. For this I paid ten dollars, 
for the saddle forty five, but I aftei'wards sold the saddle for eighty 
five dollars. 

Arriving at Humboldt after my two hundred miles on horse 
back I found myself in no mood to proceed at once on my journey, 
so I stopped with John Neal, a brother of Clark Neal, the man for 
whom I had been working. In about ten days, feeling rested, I de- 
cided to go to Reese river where Free Kingman was prospecting. 
Reese river was a distance of one hundred and twenty miles, straight 
across the mountains. I was warned that the Indians were commit- 
ting all kinds of crimes at that time yet I attempted to cross the 
mountain, but finding the snow from five to six feet deep, I returned 
to the edge of of the valley where I struck a pony trail going down the 
side of the mountain and this I followed for a distance of ten or 
twelve miles where the trail turned back into the mountain and I 
followed this for about three miles when I decided to camp for the 
night. 

(49) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iMiiMiMiiniiiMJiiiiiiiMiiiiniii>MrMMiinuiMii:irirniMiuiMiiiiiiii:iiiuiiiiiiMiiitMiiiiiiiiii:iiiiiiiiiMiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

I gathered some bunch grass with which to feed my horses, and 
had just started the fire when I happened to gaze down into the 
valley, where I saw several fires which I knew must be the camp fires 
of the "Digger" Indians, who were on the war path, killing every 
white man they came across. Prospectors had found many of the 
dead bodies lying where they had been slain, and scalped, and bur- 
ied them where they lay. Concluding that "discretion was the better 
part of valor," I hurriedly put out my fire, gathered my horses and 
outfit together and struck out up the canyon. The moon was shin- 
ing brightly, but the scrub pines and sage brush screened me from 
view. 

There being no trail I kept my course with a small pocket com- 
pass, with which all travelers supplied themselves, and which was 
most essential in traveling in a new country such as Nevada was at 
that time. 

About sunrise next morning, after a restless night spent with 
one eye and one ear open for savages, both human and animal, I sad- 
dled my horse, arranged my pack, and after a hurried breakfast of 
coffee, bacon and "flap jacks," I returned to the pony trail left the 
night before. This I followed to the top of the mountain where the 
snow was much deeper than on the south side. Finally, after much 
time and hard labor, I reached the top, then followed the trail on 
down the canyon for about five miles, when I struck a deserted In- 
dian camp, the fire still burning. From appearances forty or fifty 
Indians had spent the night there. 

I settled my hat more firmly on my head, thankful that my 
scalp was still in place, but not knowing when some lurking trailer 
would spring from ambush, and leave me with no one to tell how I 
died. I reached the end of this canyon without mishap and entered 
a valley which, after taking my course south east, I crossed. 

The second day out at sun down I struck a spring with bunch 
grass scattered all around. It appeared a desirable spot in which to 
camp for the night, so I picketed my horses out, got my supper and as 
twilight approached I sav/, not more than three miles away, on the 
foot hills, camp fires springing up here and there, which I was satis- 
fied were the camp fires of Indians, and as on the previous night, I 
gathered my horses and outfit together and started out to find ano- 
ther camp ground. As the night grew older, the moon rose in a sky 

(50) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

MIMIMIMIIininilllllMIMIIIMIIIIinilMIMnMIIIIUIIMIIIIMIMJrilllllllllllltllllllllllllMMIIMIIIIinilllllllllllllllllllllllllrllllllllllllllllllllMMIIIIIMnillllllllllllllll 

so clear few stars could be seen. I traveled on until midnia-ht, when 
I again prepared my camp, tied my horses to some sage brush and 
o-rease wood, unbound my blankets, rolled myself up in these, and 
too worn out to care what happened, I fell asleep, nor did I wake up 
until after sunrise next morning-, neither howling of coyotes nor 
fear of Indians disturbing my repose. 

There being neither snow nor water here I could not prepare 
anything to eat, so I hurried my preparations and was soon in the 
saddle. I had been traveling for three hours, when I happened to 
look up and to my great joy, saw, not more than three miles distant, 
the overland stage as it came up over a hill. I made for the stage 
road as swiftly as possible, and in what seemed to me an endless 
time, struck the stage road and followed to "home station" where I 
obtained feed for my horses and breakfast for myself. 

For hay I paid twenty cents a pound, for oats and wheat ground 
together I paid twenty five cents per pound, for my breakfast I paid 
one dollar, and that was many years before anyone had heard of the 
"high cost of living." A little while after breakfast I continued my 
journey, still along the stage road which made traveling for myself 
and horses easy. About six o'clock that night I reached another 
"home station." All stations were from ten to twelve hours apart, or 
a distance of one hundred miles. Travel with the stage coach was 
kept up day and night alike. 

Plaving arived at this second home station I stopped for the 
night. I slept in my own blankets on a dirt floor. The houses were 
stockade built. They were built by setting in the ground posts or 
poles, about a foot or eight inches through and nine feet long, and 
the roof was made by placing the same kind of logs one against the 
other, filling all cracks with mud mixed with hay, and for the roof 
adding dry dirt, rounded to turn the water. No one but myself stayed 
there that night. I do not know whether this was a day or night 
station, whichever it was, nothing disturbed my sleep. I arose, much 
refreshed by another night without fear of being scalped, fed my 
horses, ate my breakfast and called for my bill, which was eleven 
dollars. 

That day I reached the Reese river and found my cousin. Free 
Kingman, and remained with him for six weeks, prospecting. It was 
here at Reese river and at this time that I decided that I wanted to 

(M) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iniMIMMIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIlllllllMlllliriNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIJIIIIIIIIIiriJIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIJIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIJIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIJ 

go home. Brother Charlie had fallen in love with and married, a 
nice girl at Susanville, and I knew did not expect to return to Illinois, 
perhaps in years. Having decided to go, I sold my pack horse at 
auction on the street and started for Salt Lake. 

As the distance from Reese river to Salt Lake was five-hundred 
and fifty miles across the desert, I laid in a supply of grub, ten 
pounds of bacon, ten pounds of flour, one pound of coffee, all of 
which I fastened to my saddle, together with my coffee pot, frying- 
pan, tin cup, a small stew kettle and my blankets, quite a load for 
one saddle. The third day out I got in company with a young man 
about my own age, who was also traveling alone, on horseback. I 
never knew his name but called him Dick. 

We arrived at the stage station on the edge of the desert about 
six in the evening. It was between eighty and ninety miles across 
the desert and we crossed it that night. The stage road was good 
alkali, hard as a rock and it was not so hot to cross at night. 



(52) 




HENRY KINGMAN 
On his return home to Illinois in 1865 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

llliliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiriJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiirMiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiii 



CHAPTER XIII 

BOUND FOR THE STATES; SALT LAKE 
CITY AND THE MORMONS 



The home stations, where passengers were fed and drivers 
changed, were one hundred miles apart all across the desert. The 
stations where the horses were changed were from eight to fifteen 
miles apart. In places where the roads were good and hard the sta- 
tions would be fifteen miles apart, the horses always on the run. 
Where the road was sandy and heavy, stations were eight and ten 
miles apart. 

When we arrived at the "eating!' station that night about six 
o'clock, We had nothing left to eat, so I told Dick to watch the barn 
while I went to the house in search of food. The house was on one side 
side, the barn on the opposite side of the road, about one hundred 
feet apart. It was between eighty and ninety miles across the desert 
and we had to have grub before we could make it. We were des- 
perate and had to have something to eat, no matter what the cost. 
When I got to the house I told the only person in sight, the cook, that 
we wanted something to eat, that there were two of us, but he said 
he couldn't let us have anything; said he had been forbidden to feed 
travelers unless they were stage travelers. After some altercation 
he started to the corner where I noticed some guns were stacked, 
at the same time telling me to "git". 

I jerked my revolver out of my belt and commanded him to stop 
or I would fire. He did stop and very soon consented to get supper 
for us, which consisted of good warm light bread, ham, eggs, potatoes 

(53) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

MIIIIIIIIIIIMIIirilllllMIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllllllllfllMI'lhllllll IIIIIIIIIIIMIMrilllllMIMlllllllllMIIIIIIJINIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIllMHIIIIIIIU 

and coffee. I verily believe that v/as the best meal I ever ate. At 
the end of the meal he gave us each a ham sandwich for a night lunch. 
About seven o'clock in the evening, having filled our canteens with 
water, we mounted our horses and rode into the desert. 

At three in the morning I was riding a hundred yards ahead of 
Dick, when I saw something black loom up before me and I jerked my 
revolver from my belt and cocked it when a voice from out of the 
gloom said, "me good Injun, me good Injun." I lowered my gun and 
rode up to him. He was coming towards us on foot and alone. He 
was an Arizona Indian, but we didn't find out where he was coming 
from. I asked him how far it was to water. The moon, like a half 
circle, hung still pretty high in the sky; pointing to it and then away 
down the horizon, he mumbled something which I took to mean the 
moon would be that low before we reached water. 

The place he referred to was a regular stage station watering 
place. Water was hauled and put into cisterns dug in the ground. 
About ten in the morning we reached a settlement where we pro- 
cured a very good breakfast, letting our horses pick what grass they 
could find. We were by this time within fifteen miles of Salt Lake, 
where we arrived early that evening, crossed the river Jordan, and 
went to a feed yard, where we camped. We remained in Salt Lake 
six days. 

The evening after we reached Salt Lake I became acquainted 
with a Spaniard who was returning from California, where he had 
spent two years, to his home south of Pueblo. Here his father owned 
a large cattle ranche. I could talk a little Spanish in those days and 
we struck up quite a friendship. Dick, my traveling companion, 
went on to Boise the day after we landed in Salt Lake. 

On morning the Spaniard and myself were walking down the 
street, when I chanced to look across to the opposite side, and saw 
three young men standing talking together, whom I knew from their 
dress, were western men. 1 hallooed across to them and said, "where 
are you fellows going?" They replied, "the states." I crossed over 
to become acquainted with them. I told them I was going east my- 
self and it turned out that they were camping in the same feed yard 
that I was. Their names were Hoxey. They had "packed in" from 
Idaho, and they suggested that we buy a spring wagon outfit and 
all travel together. That suited me all right I said if they would let 

(54) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

MMMiiniMiininMiMMiiiiiMMniMiiiiM:iniiMit;iiMMiiiiit;iiiiMiitiiiiiMiiiiiiiitti:iiiiiiiiniiiiMii!iiiii;iiiiiiiMiiniiiMiiii:n:niiMiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiMUiiiii 

the Spaniard be one of the party. To this they ag-reed. 

Before leaving- we all wanted to see the sights of this Mormon 
city, specially the places of amusement. The first place we visited 
was the Brigham Young theatre. We found a news boy who said he 
would tell us who the people were when they came in if we would buy 
his ticket. This we did. We had not been in there but a short time 
before the people began coming in droves. We saw eight women 
come in at one time, some with children, who the boy said, were some 
of old Brigham's wives. We visited the temple, which was in process 
of construction, the walls being six feet high. We went to what 
was called Brigham's headquarters, the gates were open and no one 
in sight so I ventured inside, got about two hundred and fifty feet, 
when I was commanded to halt and told that that was "private 
ground." 

Ft. Douglas was only two miles distant up on the foot of the 
mountain. It was in sixty-five and they had been having trouble 
with the Mormons. People with whom we talked said there were two 
thousand soldiers at the fort. Having seen everything worth while 
we prepared to leave. The Hoxie boys had twelve thousand dollars 
worth of gold dust, and we were afraid af being robbed. We carried 
it tied up in bags, some in shirts, all thrown in the bottom of the 
wagon. We traveled together until vv'e arrived in north of Denver 
when the Spaniard left us. 



(55) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

nniiiniHinHinniiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMMiiiriiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinii 



CHAPTER XIV 

HOME AGAIN AFTER FIVE YEARS TRAVEL 
SEEKING A FORTUNE 



I wanted to go with him but the Hoxie boys persuaded me to go 
on home and we traveled together as far as Omaha, where they sold 
their wagon and horses, and took the train for Detroit, Michigan. I 
had kept my pony and so I crossed the Missouri river at Omaha, the 
Mississippi at Rock Island. The nearer I came towards home, the 
longer the road seemed, and the slower I seemed to travel. For two 
years after I left home to cross the plains I had never written a line 
to mother, and during all of my stay of five years I did not write that 
many times, but now I longed for home, I thought if I could get home 
once more and life there was no different from what it had been in 
the past, I should still be glad to return. I know I must have been 
homesick at last, I who never cared for anyone as much as I did for 
myself. 

One night in passing through Iowa, I was spending the night 
at a farm house. The old farmer in the course of our conversation 
said he hadn't seen any gold money for years. I pulled a twenty dol- 
lar gold piece from my pocket, the last and only one I had, and the 
old farmer gave me sixty dollars in greenbacks for it. After we reach- 
ed civilization I attracted a great deal of attention. I had not had 
my hair cut in two years and it hung down on my shoulders; I had 
not been shaved in a year. I wore buckskin trousers with a fringe 
six inches in length down the outside seams, sheepskin leggins and 
beaded Indian moccasins, an English hunting coat of corduroy with 
pockets, a gray woolen shirt, and around my neck was knotted a 
black silk handkerchief, a stiff brimmed Peruvian hat with a heavy 

(56) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiMMniiiiiiiMiMMiMMtiiiMniiiiiiiinM!ii:KniiMiiMiiiiniiiiiMiMiiiiiininiiiiiiiiuiiiii>in!iiiiiiiiii:MiiMiiiiLi:iiiMiiiii{iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

cord wound round the crown with tassels han^'ing; down from one 
side; that Peruvian hat was made of some kind of sea moss; it cost me 
$10, and was used for a hen's nest for a long time in later years. 
Around my waist I wore a red silk sash eight feet long, tied in a loop 
at the side with the fringed ends hanging down. I also wore Span- 
ish spurs. The wheel of these spurs was three inches across, and at- 
tached to it were small steel bells that jangled when I walked or 
rode. 

I shall not go further into details about my journey home as 
days were much alike until I finally arrived in Peoria, returning over 
the same road over which I had gone five years before. But how 
different were my emotions; when I left I went joyously, leaving 
so many things that were unpleasant to me and firmly believing 
that I should very soon dig from the ground or obtain in some way 
the fortune that I was seeking. 

True, I had seen much that was new, interesting and instructive, 
but as for money, I had none, i no sooner entered the city of Pe- 
oria than every small boy in sight and some not small, followed me 
through the streets until I reached the barber shop when there were at 
least fifty at my heels. Some waited outside while I was shorn of 
my surplus hair and beard, and was again ready to resume my 
journey, which was drawing to a close. 

When I left home there had lived on Washington street, a young- 
man who conducted a furniture store and who was from near my 
home, so I looked him up to make inquiries about "home folks," 
from which I had not heard a word in two years. I found him still 
there at work. He said, "the folks are all living and as far as he 
knew, well." I rode down to the toll bridge over which we passed 
the evening we left Peoria on our trip across the plains. The same 
old man was collecting toll; he knew me and said, "aint you one o' 
them Kingman boys as went away sum four or five years ago?" I 
said that I was. I could not have changed so very much in spite of 
my varied experiences, and the fact that I was not yet seventeen 
when I left, now I was twenty-two. 

Now it was only seventeen miles to my home. How my heart 
jumped at the thought. How would they greet me? Had any of 
them ever wished I was with them? Many like thoughts flew through 
my mind. At last I was in sight of the house and sonio one was 

(57) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII 

standing in the door yard; was it mother? As I draw nearer I rec- 
ognized Aunt Martha, and at that moment she saw and at once rec- 
ognized me and called loudly to those in the house — "Here comes 
Henry." I might go on and tell of some of the things that had hap- 
pened during my long absence, how my two brothers, Cyrus and 
Martin, were in the war, and from mother how she had needed me 
and missed me, but once again at home I decided to stray no more. 



(58) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 



CHAPTER XV 

BUSINESS VENTURES TAKE THE PLACE 
OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE 



On the 9th of March after I returned home, I was married to 
Mary Elizabeth Rickard. We went to house-keeping- in what I 
called a "sheep pen." I rented some land from a man by the name 
of Chaffer, and this two roomed house was on the land, but the 
winter previous had been used by Chaffer in which to house his 
sheep. It required an enormous amount of scouring with lye and 
soap and sand and hot water, but we finally got it into condition to 
paper, and lived there a year. I remained on this piece of land a 
year; moved from there to Uncle Matthew's farm^ rented eighty acres 
and that fall I bought a threshing machine, and later in the fall 
bought forty acres of land from the Hlinois Central R. R. Co., at 
twelve dollars per acre. 

On this I built a story and a half house, 16x24, doing most of the 
carpenter work myself. We moved into this before it was plastered. 
The next spring I rented a small tract of land to put in a crop, broke 
thirty acres of my own which I put in sod corn, then continued break- 
ing prairie until the ground froze. That year I sold out and went to 
Delavan, HI. Prior to this I had bought a business at El Paso, and 
when I was ready to pay and take possession the owner wanted me 
to pay him five hundred dollars extra for his "trade;" this I firmly 
refused to do, assuring him that I could get my own trade as he or 
any man did, so of course that fell through. 

In Delavan I went into the implement business with my brother 
Cyrus, and we worked together six years. I then sold out to Cyrus 
and moved Fairbury, where I bought a hardware store and did a 

(59) 



THREE - FOUETHS OF A CENTURY 

rlllMMIIinNIMIinlllMIMMIIinMIIMIIIIIIMIII'llllinillllMrilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllMllllllllllllllllllllllllllMIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIJIIJIIJIIIIIIIII 

good business, averaging $50,000 per year and one year I remember 
it v/ent to $85,000. But in spite of that fact I grew tired of that 
business and again sold out, and at once began looking 'round for 
something different, and with that end in view I accepted a position 
as representative of my brother, Martin Kingman's implement busi- 
ness, traveled for about six weeks, and while I did fairly well as a 
salesman, that was not what I was looking for, but a chance to look 
the country, or state of Kansas over, hoping to find a satisfactory in- 
vestment, preferably in land. 

At the end of six weeks having found nothing that exactly 
suited me, I returned home to Fairbury, and the following week, in 
company with Tommie Beach, Dr. Brewer and Dell Weaver, I went 
to Platte City, Nebraska, to look at 85,000 acres of land the Union 
Pacific was offering on good terms, for 85 cents per acre. That was 
in April; we arrived in Platte City in the evening, and that night we 
had all kinds of weather; it rained sleeted and snowed. We started 
out next day to look over the land. Where the snow had melted the 
ground was white with alkali and we found upon inquiry that the 
water was full of alkali. We returned to Fairbury, wiser men. 

In a short time after this I came back to Kansas to look 'round 
once more. This was in May 1884. Before I left the state I bought 
a thousand acres of land in Morris county, returned home, packed up 
and moved and located in Council Grove, Kansas. My family at 
this time consisted of myself, wife, three daughters and a small son. 
I remained in Council Grove two years, moving a stock of goods I 
had at Chanute to Council Grove and selling them out. 

At the end of two years in Council Grove, I built a store house 
on the land I had bought twenty miles west of the Grove. This 
building was twenty by sixty feet, two full stories, and arranged 
for living purposes in the upper story. Here we lived for fifteen 
years. About that time I built the house I am now occupying, and 
in which my wife died, February 4thj 1906, at the age of sixty-two 
years. 

In 1885, with the assistance of Tom Kinnahan and Ed Miller, I 
laid out Grandview Township, and the same year I laid out and 
plotted and named the town of Delavan, in memory of the little town 
in Illinois by that name, in which I first began business. I opened a 
general store, carrying also hardware and implements. 

(60) 



THREE -FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiniiiiiiiiiriiiiiriiir >iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiij!iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiMiMriiiiiiiiii 

and five hundred of my friends to come and help me celebrate the 
event. For several years I had said many times that, "If I lived to 
be seventy-five years old I would have a barbecue." Ours had not 
been a long lived family; I am now the only remaining member of 
the original Kingman family, and have lived to be older than any of 
them, one uncle living to be about seventy-five, when he died. In 
this book, intended for my children, grand children, other relatives 
and many friends, I have included the story of the celebration as 
printed in the Council Grove Guard and a poem written in celebration 
of the event by my old friend and fellow pioneer, Judge A. M. Crary, 
of Herington, Kansas. 



(02) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiiiiiiiiinirMiiniiiriiiiiiinirifiiiiriiiiiiliiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiJiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiii 



APPENDIX 

SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION 
FOR HENRY KINGMAN 



Henry Kingman, near Delavan, celebrated his seventy-fifth 
birthday May 7th, 1917, with a big house and lawn party. The fea- 
ture of the entertainment was a big barbecue dinner. The dinner 
was begun at one o'clock. The dinner was one of the biggest ever 
given in Morris county. Nearly four hundred people from Council 
Grove, Wilsey, Burdick, and other parts of Morris and Dickinson 
counties and Herington were the guests of the Kingman family. 
There were several old friends from Illinois there also. 

The Delavan band furnished music on the lawn and the Herington 
orchestra, led by Mr. C. N. Tufts, furnished music for the guests 
in the house. Mr. and Mrs. Kingman and Mrs. J. M. Belck, an old 
friend from Delavan, Hlinois, received the guests. The guests began 
to arrive about ten o'clock, and at twelve thirty they had not quit. 

Mr. Kingman has lived in Morris county since 1884. He came 
to Morris county in that year. He lived in Council Grove for about 
a year after his arrival in this county. He then moved to the present 
townsite of Delavan and named the place in honor of his old home in 
Hlinois. He was in the mercantile, then engaged in the farming 
business, which he still follows. 

Mr. Kingman has three daughters. They are : Mrs. Webster 
Ray, who lives three miles west of Delavan; Mrs. Charles Ray, wife 
of the lumberman in Delavan, and Mrs. Ed Miller, wife of the mer- 
chant in Delavan. Mr. Kingman owns about eighteen hundred acres 
of fine Morris county land. He is one of the county's foremost citi- 
zens. The Kingman family is one of the most respected families 
in the county. They are the kind which makes the county progress 

(03) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

iiniiMiMrMniiniiiiiiMiiMiMiiiMiiiiriiiiMiiiiHiiniiriiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiniiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiJJiJiiiiiiiMiMiiuiiiiiMiiiiiiiMirjiii 

and keep up with the times. The daughters of Mr. Kingman have 
married some of the most energetic and biggest boosters the county 
has. Their daughter's husbands are known the county over, and es- 
pecially Mr. Webster Ray, as being one of the biggest good roads 
boosters in the United States, and especially for the Santa Fe Trail. 

Mr. and Mrs. Kingman were the receipents of many beautiful 
and costly mementoes of the occasion and recognition from their 
friends. The front of the house was decorated with a large Ameri- 
can flag and attractively arranged on the interior. 

The dinner was served to more than four hundred guests on the 
lawn. Barbecued beef, buns, cookies, cream and sugar, salad and 
pickles, were served on paper plates to the guests. There was 
enough barbecued meat and other things for five hundred, the num- 
ber of invitations sent out. Several of the guests were unable to ar- 
rive on account of road conditions. 

Following the dinner Rev. T. P. Henry eulogized the life of Mr. 
Kingman in a grand and decidedly excellent speech. He told of the 
early settlers and especially Mr. Kingman's part in establishing Delavan 
the first community in Grandview township, and his ability as a 
community builder and a man of fine foresight and character. 

Judge A. M. Crary of Herington was one of the guests for the day 
and read a poem in honor of his old friend, Mr. Kingman. Mr. and 
Mrs. M. D. Herington, for which the town of Herington was named, 
were also guests at the celebration. — Council Grove Guard. 



DIRTY POLITICS 



Contrary to the general idea and wish that the county would get 
through the campaign without any display of mean and unfair poli- 
tics, some of it has been turned loose the past ten days. The county 
candidates and even the county papers have come through the cam- 
paign without the customary fights and bad blood that accomplishes 
so little but which some people think is the only thing that makes a 
campaign. If you ever saw a fair and decent campaign this has been 
one in this county, generally speaking. But in the last ten days a 

(04) 



THREE -FOURTPIS OF A CENTURY 

liinMMiiinMiiiHiMMiriiiiniiiiiriiiiiiiiJiiiiiiwMiiiiiiiMiifiiiiiirriiiiiiiiiMiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiirjiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiirjiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

fiffht has been started on Henry Kingman, republican candidate for 
commissioner in the third district that should be aired in its true 
lij2:ht. The promoters left it to the last in order to slip up on some- 
body but the slip will work backwards. Last week we mentioned the 
way Kingman had been represented in South Morris as a Western 
Morris man and in Western Morris as a Council Grove and South 
Morris man. This week there has been an attempt to make medi- 
cine out of the fact that Kingman once drew $25 from the Morris 
county treasury for service rendered. The claim is that the $25 was 
an excessive charge. 

Here are the circumstances all of which are proven by records 
•anyone may see in the County Clerk's office. In March 1903 some 
extra crew section men broke out with small-pox in the car they used 
as a sleeping place on the Missouri Pacific side track at Delavan, this 
county. The disease was of the most virulent type. Of nine rail- 
road men who had it, seven died either at Delavan or after going to 
their home. In and around Delavan seven had it and four died. The 
patients were kept at the home of a man by the name of Varner. 
His family caught the disease and the father in the home died. Three 
others died in this house. It became a neighborhood scare and 
scourge. No one could be secured to nurse the sick, to go near them 
with food or to care for them. Mr. Kingman, being the county health 
officer in that part of the county it fell to him to give at least some at- 
tention and gradually the main part of the care fell to him. A man 
who had had the disease and was therefore considered immune, help- 
ed, and with Kingman, were the main ones attending the cases. One 
man who died in the car was not buried until after some delay be- 
cause no one would do it. Kingman finally did it* alone, risking his 
health and the health of his family. Kingman and one other man 
buried five small pox patients. During Mr. Varner's illness King- 
man took time and pains to render assistance to the family, every 
time risking much to do so. After it was all over and the commun- 
ity felt that the scourge had passed, it was a neighborhood request 
that the Varner house, bedding and clothing, be destroyed by fire to 
destroy all disease germs and prevent a possible outbreak of the 
dread disease germs at some future period. A committee from the 
township waited on the county commissioners at a special session 
and the request to burn the house was granted as a measure of pub- 
lic safety. The commissioners paid Mrs. Varner $300 for the house 
and $150 for the furniture and clothing, after proper appraisement 

(65) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

rMiiiiiMiMitMiiMiiiiriiiriiriiiiiriMiiMiiiitiiiMriiituriiHiiiirirr)iriirMhiiriiriiiiiiiiriirMiiiMniiiMtiiiiiiriiriiMiiiiiiiiMii!iiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiMiliiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiIi 

by a committee of disinterested citizens had been given the county 
board. The burning was done only after the recommendation of 
Dr. Painter, county health officer, and John Maloy, county attorney, 
that it was strictly a legal transaction and warranted by the facts. 
These recommendations are on file in the county clerk's office. Now 
the contention of the Kingman opposers. The county board order- 
ed King-man to burn the house, paid him $25 for his services in the 
small pox matter in his neighborhood, and Kingman's acceptance of 
it has become an issue in this campaign. Behold what some people 
will do in the name of politics. Does any one who reads this want 
the job of looking after seven small pox patients and burying five 
of them for $2.5? It was no pay. It could not be considered as 
pay. The small pox trouble extended through part of four months. 
Five hundred dollars could not be considered as pay if risk and all 
other features are considered. It was more of a present than pay. 
Both of the other commissioners, when considering the matter, said 
they would not have rendered the same service for $100, and one 
of them said he would not have done it at any price. 

If there is anything in this at all, it is that Kingman deserves 
re-election more than he otherwise would, and people Vi/ho use this 
against him are showing lame ideas of good citizenship, to say the 
least. Authority for the burning of the house was the written opin- 
ion of County Attorney Maloy, which closed with these words, "I 
would therefore advise you to procure appraisement and estimate of 
the said building and such of its contents as ought not be preserved 
and at once condemn and order building and contents destroyed by 
fire." Maloy was right, therefore Kingman and the remaining com- 
missioners were right. The epidemic was well controlled and there 
is no telling how many Morris county homes were protected by the 
good management. — Council Grove Guard. 



TO MY FRIEND, MR. HENRY KINGMAN, ON HIS 75TH 
BIRTHDAY ANNIVERSARY, MAY 7TH, 1917 

'Tis five and seventy years you say. 
Since first you saw the light of day; 

Those many years, no doubt it seems. 

Have come and gone like pleasant dreams. 
(GO) 



THREE - FOURTHS OF A CENTURY 

linMMILIIMJIIIIMJJMIIIMIIIIIIIIIMMIMIIMMIIMIJIlllNIIUIUinMIIIIMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIinillllltllflinillllllinillMIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIJIIIIIIIIIIJIIIMIIIIinilll 

Sisters and brothers who passed before, 

Are dwellin,ti' on that other shore. 
You look for those with whom you played, 

But in the grave yard they are laid. 

You've lived through changes, great and small, 

Improvements that astonish all; 
Homes for the millions here are found. 

And bread for all who till the ground. 

'Twas less than fifty years ago. 

The sickle cut the grain, you know; 
The scythe the grass, with sweat of brow, 

Machinery does that labor now. 

The stage coach, now quite out of date, 

Transported people, mail and freight; 
Four horses sped them on their way. 

And made but forty miles a day. 

When Fulton showed the powers of steam, 
A change was wrought on land and stream ; 

Boats are propelled; it drives the mill, 
And handles cars with matchless skill. 

Who would have thought we would be able, 

To lay the great Atlantic cable? 
They would have marveled long ago, 

To see it span the depths below. 

Then Edison's electric power, 

Is growing greater every hour; 
Lights ships and cars, our dwellings, streets, 

Helps to smooth our linens, cook our meats. 

His phonograph and telephone. 

His magic speaking gramaphone; 
All these and more, are his invention, 

And challenges the world's attention. 

(67) 



THREE - FOURTPIS OF A CENTURY 

iiniiMUMJiiMniiiiiiniiiiiiiMiniiMiiiiiiMiiiiijiijiriiiiMiiiiirjiiiiiiiiMiiiirMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiiiiiuiiiiiijiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

Brave Morse, the telegraphic king, 

Has given to words their swiftest wing; 

The wires now spanning earth and sea, 
Bring daily news to you and me. 

Change marks each milestone as we pass. 

We look for those once in our class; 
They've crossed the stream somewhat ahead, 

And now are numbered with the dead. 

The memory of all these years. 

Give joy and gladness — sometimes tears; 

Tears for the loved ones laid away. 

And whom we hope to meet some day. 

The time allotted us on earth. 

We should not spend in sin and mirth; 

But seek the guidance of The hand, 
Which leads us to that better land. 

That when the last act of life is played, 

And with our fathers we are laid; 
May we join in anthems sung above. 

Where all is Peace and Joy and Love. 

— A. M. CRARY, Herington, Kansas 



(08) 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



005 029 261 7 i 






